SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE
by GerrysJackie
Summary: EC, AU They had both battled for acceptance and love all of their lives, only to have it escape them almost every time. They now battle their hearts, their selves, and each other and the war is raging.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello to those of you who take the time to read my story. I am going to be taking this one slowly, as I have not written as much as I would have liked to before posting; but there some inpatient ones out there who have encouraged me to post (You know who you are...and I love you for it!!)_

_The title changed from the original, but the story line remains the same - a few minor differences; but I do hope you will enjoy this. It is an alternate universe, Erik/Christine story. Let me know what you thing._

_GerrysJackie  
_

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

An original story revolving around the characters of Erik and Christine from

_The Phantom of the Opera_ by Gaston Leroux

By GerrysJackie

**Cast of Main Characters**

Erik Worthington (32) – Gerard Butler (long, wavy hair – like in "Attila")

Christine Darcy (26) – There really is no one that matches my vision of her; 5'10'', natural silver/blond hair, well endowed and curvaceous, dark violet eyes

Anne Roberts (48) – Emma Thompson

Wesley Roberts (52) – Rowan Atkinson

CHAPTER 1 - Sacrifices

_The Crimean War, __Battle of Eupatoria__February__1855_

"Captain Worthington, we are being attacked from both sides and our sails are down! What are your orders?"

The captain surveyed the area, not liking the heaviness that surrounded him and made a quick, logical conclusion.

"Get as many men as you can off this ship immediately, they are coming at us from all angles and we have been boarded!"

The voice carried over the booming resonance of the war and the men followed without discussion. To make matters worse, the weather was rough and more than just the sounds of war were pounding the ship.

"Barton…" the name rang out and a weathered, young sailor came forward – saluting the man he called captain and friend.

"Yes, captain?"

Captain Erik Worthington turned toward the older man, still monitoring all activity around him with a sharp eye, but still managing to the give the man his attention.

"Lower the long boats and have all that are still alive load into them…take as many of the dead as you can…" he looked around him; thankfully, it looked like there were few dead. He felt that somehow he had failed those who had lost their lives, "…they deserve a proper burial…and make sure you have the roster for identification."

Eli Barton furrowed his already disturbed brow and stared at his captain in bemusement; realizing he had no intention of following.

"What of you, sir?"

Captain Worthington looked down into the expectant face of his second in command, wanting to assure him that all would be well, but unable to do so.

His thoughts suddenly filled with images of his beautiful, cold wife, Lucy and his young, impressionable son, Gage. She had been his world…once; now, there was nothing left except a hollow cavern where his heart had once been.

Gage had been three when he had left all those months ago, and Lucy had made it clear that she did not wish to be a mother; thoughts of what she might do Gage in a fitful rage literally gripped Erik's heart with a volatile terror.

This could very well be the end, and Erik prayed that Gage would survive his mother's indifference and silent neglect; after all, Erik's own childhood had been much the same.

The deep abyss of his eyes held the reflection of every emotion he was feeling at that moment and Eli found himself lost in that gripping gaze – unable to pull out.

The Captain's voice finally broke the spell.

"I need to give the fleet more time…we were the first in these waters and paved the way for the others…I can give them the time they need…I just have to hold out a little longer."

Panic gripped Eli's chest at the thought of leaving his captain to face the Russian guns by himself. He shook his head in denial, not willing to accept the call that his captain had made.

"Sir, I can help…"

The words were stuck in his throat as the cannon sounded behind him and the strong hands of his captain pushed him to the deck in a barrage of flying debris and ammunition. The deafening sound of gunfire and battle, coupled with the strangling smoke that surrounded him caused Eli to cough dreadfully and try to feel his way through the thick, acidic air.

Losing the battle, he dropped to all fours, hoping to find something familiar; moments later his hand slid in a thick substance and then came in contact with flesh. A small clearing in the smoke allowed him to see that his captain had fallen; and his blood was quickly spreading.

"Captain!"

Eli did not take the time to assess the extent of his injuries; it was difficult to see much of anything as he had landed on his stomach with his face buried in a sea of his own blood.

Dragging the large man by the shoulders, he managed to get him to the side of the ship and catch the attention of two of his shipmates.

"Help me…the captain is injured!"

The two men rushed to him through the dissipating smoke.

"He saved my life." Eli stated, stark reality hitting him as he realized he could have been killed if Captain Worthington had not pushed him down to the deck. "His injuries should have been mine."

It took all three men to get the broad shouldered, six feet, two inch frame of their captain loaded into the boat. The small dingy was lowered into the water and they rowed away from the shattered debris of their ship; a vessel on which they had trained and fought side by side for over ten years.

Eli cradled his captain's head in his lap, finally able to see the deep, gaping wound that had been inflicted by a piece of flying debris. His entire right cheek was nothing but a mesh of destroyed flesh and blood.

"That looks really bad, Eli, what happened?"

Eli looked at the anxious faces of his fellow shipmates and shook his head.

"Everything happened so fast…one minute he was before me; talking about getting everyone off the ship…" Eli swallowed his lurching heart and looked each man in the eye as he continued, "…the next, he was pushing me out of the way and I lost sight of him from there."

Eli felt his eyes stinging – certain he was feeling overwhelmed at the sight of his captain, the fact that he had taken the blow that was meant for him, and the smoke and other airborne agents had gotten into his eyes.

The blood was everywhere. Eli gently lifted Erik's head and noticed a brutal, bleeding blow on the back of his head; it was bleeding horribly and Eli felt the uneasiness of nausea filling his stomach.

"How did that happen?" Farley Rosin asked, after seeing the injury on the back of Erik's head.

Eli shook his head and furrowed his brow; his concern for his captain was foremost on his mind.

"The enemy was all around us, and visibility was at a minimum…he must have been attacked from behind. I just do not know if he was hit while he was down or if the blow to the back of his head is what took him down."

The seriousness of the injuries did not escape him, Eli was more than familiar with what fatal wounds looked like…and this could easily be just that. Erik was more than a captain to him, he was a friend – almost like a brother.

The trip to the shoreline was harrowing, but they finally made it. Erik had not awakened, but Eli was thankful for the heart that still beat beneath his hand, assuring him that his friend and leader still lived.

There was a camp not far from the shoreline and the men carried their fallen commander into the tent that was set up for medical attention. He was rushed away from them before any explanation could be made…they would have to wait to learn the extent of the damage.

►▼◄

It was obvious that the man being carried in, cradled in the arms of several men, with a trail of many more behind him, was respected and loved by them. They gently placed him on top of a cot, removed his boots, and stood around him in a crescent shape with their heads bowed and their eyes closed.

Eli became the spokesman for the group and began his explanation as soon as he saw the nurses and doctors headed their way.

"He just went down…the wood is a piece of the ships planking and it flew through the air and lodged in his right cheek. The wound on the back of his head is extremely deep and, as far as I know, was caused by a purposeful blow from one of the enemy soldiers."

Eli looked down at his captain and was, once again, overwhelmed by the sacrifice he had made…that would be him lying there – or worse – if Erik had not pushed him out of the way.

He whispered his final words, "They apparently happened simultaneously."

The doctor thanked him for the information and instructed the nurses on the proper procedures; and then he was gone.

Eli knew they were inundated with the injured, but he was not moving from Erik's side until someone came and told him that he had to leave.

◄▼►

Removing the wood, glass, and various other materials that were lodged in his flesh had been vexing and tedious; the nurse was sitting beside his cot assessing the bandages that covered the right side of his face and wrapped around to the back of his head. She could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to her; but then, she had seen so many.

She bathed his forehead with a cool cloth, assuring herself that there was no fever setting in. What she could see of the man was very pleasant to look at. Dark brown, almost black waves of hair whorled around his face and refused to lie down, as she was certain he would have wanted them to.

The one eye that was exposed was framed in sable, long lashes. They rested on his cheek creating shadows that fluttered with his eyes movements. However, it was the lower part of his face that held your attention; full, kissable lips that looked as though they would be easily coaxed into a roguish grin; a strong, firm, aristocratic jaw and a perfectly dimpled chin – in a word, he was beautiful.

He was not out of danger yet. Infection was still a major concern, but the head nurse had been sure to keep a close eye on him, as his men had insisted. He was loved by those who served beneath him…that spoke well of the man that he was.

The young man that had been with him since his arrival three days ago, still had not moved from his side. He was currently resting on the ground beside the cot and seemed quite content to stay there.

She stood as her superior approached and gave a thorough examination of the patient. She was the best there was, and they were blessed to have a nurse of her caliber on sight to tend to the wounded and train the nurses.

"He seems to be reacting well to the medication and his sheets and bandages look clean…very good, nurse…you are doing a fine job."

The young woman smiled at the head nurse and flushed slightly.

"Thank you, Miss. Nightingale, your advice and suggestions are must appreciated…I am learning so much."

The older woman laughed and wiped her drenched forehead with the back of her trembling, tired hand. Loose strands of brown hair had worked their way out of her stately bun and hung adorably at each side of her face.

"Please, my dear, call me Florence." The kind, efficient woman responded. "What is your name?"

The young woman curtsied and smiled, "Denise, Miss Nightingale; Denise Hampton."

"Well Denise, you are a very talented young nurse, I see you being a success in this field should you choose to pursue it…." She leaned and patted the younger woman on the upper arm, "...and I must insist that you call me Florence."

"Thank you, Florence…for the compliment; I enjoy what I am doing, I have studied beneath a very learned teacher for the last several years."

Florence Nightingale nodded and looked down at the floor as movement caught her eyes.

Eli stirred awake and sat up, upon hearing voices. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the two nurses conversing over Erik. They became aware of his searching gaze and both of them smiled down at him.

"Hello, young man." Florence stated, looking from Eli to Erik in admiration, "…it speaks well of this man that you would stay by his side like you have…you must care for him."

Eli nodded and stood up. He brushed off his clothing and cleared his throat.

"Yes nurse, I care about him a great deal…he saved my life."

He excused himself to go in search of some food, leaving Erik in the good hands of the nurses.

Florence removed the patient chart from her pocket and looked over it with detailed eyes. She glanced back at the man who had not awakened and furrowed her brow.

"Well, Mr. Erik Worthington, you are of great interest to the queen…she wants you to get the best care; it seems you are a hero." She bent over his figure and coyly moved his hair from off his forehead. "My, but you certainly are a handsome one."

Florence looked once again at the young nurse who seemed to be in shock.

"Are you alright, Denise?"

The younger woman was trembling from head to toe and her face was ashen and streaked with tears.

"Will he recover?" She finally asked; her voice strained with emotion.

"Only time will tell…he will be heavily scarred on the right side of his face and we have no way of knowing if the injury to the back of his head has done any damage other than the obvious."

Denise pushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of her fingers and stared at the still figure of the captain. What did his life hold for him? Denise knew she had no right to question these things, but she could not tear her mind or eyes from the man before her.

Considering the conversation over, Florence Nightingale left the tent and left the young nurse there…shedding tears she had thought to never shed.

►▼◄

For weeks, he remained unresponsive and they feared he would not survive. The nurses had taken special care with him – making certain he was kept clean and his sheets and bandages were always kept clean, as instructed by Miss Nightingale herself.

Despite the horrible mutilation of his right upper cheek, he was quite attractive and the nurses found themselves staring at him quite often. He was a hero to their country and had earned a promotion before retiring – a promotion from the Queen herself; he was now Commodore Erik Worthington.

His name was a well-known one among anyone who knew anything about the Royal Navy; he would be sorely missed amongst the ranks; but there nothing more he could do for them.

The young man, Eli Barton, had been called back into duty, and had reluctantly left his captain's side to become a captain himself. Apparently, Erik had recommended him for promotion months ago, and they had readily accepted his approval and endorsement.

He had hoped that Erik would have awakened by now, they all had, but he prayed over the fallen hero, saluted him with tears in his eyes, and dutifully left him in the hands of the able nurses.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

►▼◄

_Three months later, London, England_

She did not smile nor nod at anyone as she was escorted down the hall toward her destination. Yesterday had been a trial and she acted as though it had been a tremendous feat of will to have made it through without scars.

Lucy Worthington's cold demeanor had the entire hospital in a quiet uproar. She had stormed into the building demanding to see her husband, Commodore Erik Worthington.

Not used to intrusive wives, the staff was puzzled by her behavior; causing her agitation to increase and the volume of her voice did likewise.

They finally led her to his private room where he sat, propped up on the pillows with his head cocked at an odd angle, as though he was hearing every minute detail going on around him.

Her initial reaction to his scars was a shrill scream followed by a disgusted gasp. She turned her face from him with her eyes slammed shut as though trying to remove the image of his ravaged visage from her mind.

Her scream and gasp had set Erik's face in a hard, disappointed scowl. He had expected her to be surprised, but he had not expected her to be disgusted. They had not seen each other for months, and yet she did not so much as take his hand in comfort.

His entire condition had been explained to her and her reaction was not unexpected; she had turned and left the room without speaking a word.

Now she had returned; and the words she spoke took what pieces of his dignity were still intact, and hurled them into a deep, dark chasm and severed every fragile cord within his heart.

"I have arrived at a decision…" She spoke with a practical tone and did not touch him, "…I came here in good faith, Erik, thinking I would make more of an effort in this marriage. Things have been difficult since you left…"

Erik cringed on the inside, knowing that she blamed his absence for her infidelity. She continued on about the affair in which she was involved and Erik did his best to ignore her.

Whatever there had once been between them was no more. Erik could not remember the last smile she had brought to him, the last kind word she had said to him…the last kiss. He was not even sure Gage was his...the only real evidence was in his eyes; but Erik cared not…that little boy was his son – end of discussion.

"….I never wanted this and I am not going to deal with it – it is your responsibility. Virgil and I are in love…so…" he heard her pause as his thoughts returned to the melodious lilt of her voice, "…I am sure you understand."

She was not facing him; he could hear her voice reflecting off the walls and charging toward him like a herd of wild horses. Her final words were akin to a whisper; but they screamed in his ears like the cry of a banshee.

"You should have had the decency to die on that ship, you wretched man."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and uplifting words; you make my heart sing.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 2 – A Reason to Move On

Regardless of the sting that those words inflicted, Erik knew there were things that needed to be resolved and he was not about to let her leave before they were settled.

"What about Gage, Lucy…what are we going to do about him?" Erik pulled her back into the room with the question regarding their son. "He has done nothing to deserve the ugliness that is about to enter his world because of this."

Lucy swung around, but could not meet his eyes. She knew she was beautiful – it was evident in the way she moved; but her heart was a block of pure ice, and had been for years.

"I do not want the brat, Erik…I never did." She spat the words without caring about the pain they would cause, "I did not want him to begin with, carrying him added weight to my perfect figure and birthing him was the most disgusting experience of my life…next to your groping me the night he was conceived."

Erik had hoped he was beyond petty feelings like the stabbing pain of her words. He had endured much of it in his life; but somehow, the words coming from her exquisite mouth hurt more than they should have.

It was ludicrous to think that having Gage had put weight on her; she could stand a few more pounds on her, and her frame lacked the pleasing and sensual curves that Erik had long ago – in a darkened room with a complete stranger – discovered he loved on a woman.

"My mother will not have him either; she despises him as much as I do."

Veronica Templeton was beyond the concept of wicked; she must have written the book on the act. Erik's skin crawled at the mention of her – even in passing – and he did not want that witch within an inch of his son.

"He is my son; I will take care of him and be what a father should be to him."

Lucy's hysterical laugh pierced the air and Erik was certain he felt the inner parts of his ears shrink and split from the atrocity of the sound.

"You will fail, Erik…you fail at everything you do. You could not manage to be a good son to your father or mother, a good husband to me, nor a good son-in-law to my mother – what makes you think you can handle being a father, especially now – with all that has happened to you?"

She was mocking him and Erik could feel this hands aching to wrap themselves around her scrawny neck and wring the life out of her; but he had never injured a woman in any fashion and he did not intend to start now.

"Because I must." He responded quietly; his own misgivings buried deep beneath his stony façade.

The stark hatred he felt for her at that moment surprised him. He had never thought to find himself wishing her gone…she was, after all, a stunning woman on the outside and she made the perfect wife to those who saw them together. She was petite and blond to his towering height and dark allure; they seemed to fit perfectly together.

However, Erik knew otherwise.

"Virgil is highly successful and we will be rich beyond imagination." She blabbered on and on about money, and Erik could feel the murdering rage building to a dangerous level. "That horrendous pile of rock you call Worthington Manor is worthy only of a glance, for its time has passed…and you are a relic, as well as everything you believe in."

It was at this point that the lovable dolt, Virgil, cantered into the room. He had been conversing about some nonsensical issue for several minutes with one of the doctors, and was anxious to be on his way.

The voice that carried to Erik's ear was nasally and grated on his spine, but Erik decided to be thankful that this driveling fop was eager to take Lucy from him…and Erik was eager to have her gone.

"Well, Ole Chap, I do hope there are no hard feelings about this…we have been friends since childhood and, as you know, I always had my heart set on Lucy."

Erik almost laughed aloud at the concept of them being friends in any sense of the word. Virgil had grown up a spoiled, catered-upon, rich boy and Erik had been the brunt of many of his nasty pranks. Although Erik came from a family with money, everyone – including his family, had treated him as an outsider.

To this day, Lucy had no idea just how much money Erik had, and he planned to keep it that way; he certainly was not a miser, but he would not give her money just to have her spend it on other men and frivolous behavior. She thought him a pauper…and it would remain that way.

"Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" Erik stated; his voice was surprisingly steady; but there was bitterness behind each word; and although there was no humor in his tone, Lucy laughed.

He was certain they deserved each other, although he was equally as certain that it would only be a few months into this relationship and Lucy would be in the company of another man.

"I will leave Gage at the manor, Anne and Wesley can watch over him until you are on your feet again…" Lucy advised; her voice sounding bored and unconcerned, "…you two deserve each other."

"Good-bye, Ole Chap." Virgil's insipid nasally voice called back as they walked out the door and left Erik wondering when everything had gone so wrong.

◄▼►

Three weeks later, he finally arrived at Worthington Manor. He had avoided this place in his earlier adult years – believing if he put distance between these old stone walls and him, that the memories would fade to a dull image in his mind.

However, you cannot run from your past, and Erik had tried for far too long to wipe the sound of his father's wailing and his mother's disappointment from his mind. Every time he dwelled on them, a strange ache began in his heart. He had hoped, at one time, that the woman he loved would be able to replace his pain with joy…but he had never loved Lucy.

They had been thrust together by Erik's mother and Lucy's mother; who had been under the impression that he had a large amount of wealth. Erik's mother had thought Lucy was a wealthy heiress who would provide her with a comfortable means of living through Erik.

Deception breeds nothing more than hatred; and that was all that Erik had gotten out of the entire ordeal.

The bleakness of his existence seemed to seep over the entire house, leaving the staff less than enthused about the lord of the manor. His mother had died only months ago; leaving Erik the sole heir to the estate – much to her dislike – the will of his father had been iron clad and no woman would be left in charge; even if Erik would not have been his first choice.

Gage was a quiet stranger that roamed the halls at odd times and seemed lost in a place that should have been his home. Lucy had kept him away; for no other reason than the fact that she just did not like living in the country.

"Commodore?"

Erik lifted his head but did not turn toward the voice; how could he feel so alone with a house full of people?

"You have barely left your room since you returned to us; let us know what we can do to make your life easier."

Anne had seen Erik grow from a troubled child into an angry man; and although he may not be her son by birth, she thought of him in such a way. She had been a sixteen-year-old housemaid in the Worthington household when Erik was born.

On many occasions throughout his young life, she was his nursemaid and companion. She found that she easily fell in love with his head full of raven curls, the brilliant, luminescent light of his teal eyes and his tender disposition.

It hadn't taken long for the circumstance to turn ugly and for Erik's lecherous family to turn their backs on him once they felt he was of no use to them. Anne recoiled at the painful way they shut him out of their lives and caused him to turn into a troubled adolescent; nothing he did was ever good enough and the accomplishments he achieved were meaningless.

But not to her, she had always encouraged him to excel in the areas he enjoyed the most and to become a man to which the world and all of its fools had to answer.

There had been other battles in his life, battles she had not been there to help him through; and he had suffered greatly because of them. There was a stranger behind his eyes now, and Anne struggled to release the young man she loved so much from the grip that bitterness had on him…but she could not do it alone.

The despondent droop of his impressive shoulders spoke louder than any words he could have muttered; but his soft, tortured words reached her ears nonetheless.

"He will not even speak to me, Anne…" she wanted to reach out and gently wipe the sorrow from his eyes and the tears from his face, "…my own son does not want anything to do with me."

"He does not know you, Erik…give him time."

Her words echoed in his heart, but they still left him feeling cold and out of breath. Time….it seemed he had a great deal of that to give; but how could he make the best of it?

►▼◄

One day followed another and Erik felt little change as the weeks passed. He knew deep within himself that he had to take control of the darkness that threatened his soul, or lose all that he was to its cold grip.

The staff had begun to fear that he would never be anything more than a ghost that inhabited the third floor of the manor – floating through the halls on occasion to familiarize himself with the surroundings.

It was a few months later that the course of Erik's relationship with Gage would change forever.

Little boys love exploring, and Gage was no exception. The day was warm and muggy, but that did not stop him from venturing outside; knowing it was against the rules that his father had set forth.

He chased a bumblebee around the large yard, amazed at its speed and agility; he watched a large bird draw designs in the blue sky as it seemed content to stay suspended between earth and heaven.

Anne saw him playing in the grass and thought nothing of it…little boys should play outside…it was a privilege and a necessity. Unbeknownst to him, she smiled as he performed his childish antics; picturing a time – years ago – when Erik had been that free and boyishly happy.

She continued her household chores, careful to keep an eye on Gage every few minutes.

Erik had been lying down, cursing the sickening headaches that were becoming more and more prevalent. They incapacitated him on frequent occasions, and he could do little more than sleep them off.

Anne's loud cries pulled him from the bed and toward the window where he heard her voice but could not understand her words. Wesley, her husband, was with her and his voice carried up the side of the manor and into the open window by which Erik was standing.

"One minute he was here and next he was gone?"

There was panic rising off both of them, and Erik felt it oozing into him as thickly as it apparently had oozed into them.

"Wesley, I know Erik told him not to be outside unattended, but I was watching him from the inside of the house as I did my daily chores, I had not had my eye off him more than a minute or two."

_Gage _

Erik shot from his room at speeds he had never thought himself capable of; he soared through the house – mindless of anything in his path – and burst through the back vestibule door and onto the large stretch of yard.

Anne saw the panic and fear on his face and knew that he knew about Gage. He moved toward her as though programmed to do so.

"Where did you last see him?"

"He was busy running after a tiny creature – a rabbit I think it was – but I looked up and he had disappeared."

"Anne, think hard…where did you last see him?"

He had his hands on her shoulders and was shaking her gently, emphasizing his concern and juggling her memory.

"He was running toward the edge of the trees…just past the hedge."

He was gone in an instant, running across the lawn oblivious to anything in his way. He knew every inch of these grounds intimately, and what lay beyond the border of the hedge, hidden deep within the row of tall oak trees.

Erik moved through the thick trees with the ease of years of knowledge; his senses enhanced by the adrenalin pumping though his veins. His keen hearing picked up on an odd whimpering sound that was completely out of the ordinary for the woodsy area

"Gage…is that you?" Erik did not allow any of the tension he felt to enter his voice, the sound was soothing and coaxing, "Son, come to me, I am not angry."

The whimpering grew louder and Erik knew it was Gage; he would know his own son's vocal tones anywhere.

"Gage…little warrior…come here and I will tell you a great story about knights and kings."

"Papa?"

Erik spun around toward the little voice, and felt the softness of relief enter his heart. There was no one in the world that had as much hold over him as this small, defenseless little boy had – it was truly a miracle.

"Gage…I cannot make it without you, son…please do not leave me."

Erik felt the small hand of his son take a hold of his much larger one…although the touch was gentle and the grip was soft, it was the strongest chord around his heart and Erik felt the tears prickle his eyes.

"I did not think you wanted me…just like mama."

Erik picked up the small child and cradled him against his chest, whispering gentle words of comfort and assurance.

"I am sorry, Gage….I have been a fool – wallowing in my own self-pity…" Erik smiled, really smiled, for the first time in months. "…there is nothing I want more in this world than you."

Gage's tiny face was iridescent with glee and Erik felt shards of hope fill his heart, "From now on, it is you and me, little warrior; a team that no one dare to separate."

"Not even mama?" Gage asked, speculatively.

Erik laughed and almost felt human again, "Especially not your mother."

They walked back through the hedge and began life anew; it was a long struggle they had ahead of them, but as long as no thing or no one disrupted their world…all would be perfect.

Laughable concept, really…all things considered.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

This is the end of the "introductory chapters", if you wish to call them that. Starting with chapter four, the ages of the characters - noted at the beginning of chapter one - will be accurate.

We learn a secret about Erik in this chapter, something you may not have suspected.

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 3 – Negotiations?

Months passed and Erik and Gage slipped into a wonderfully thrilling routine. Erik had easily remembered that he had never really had a childhood; and he figured that Gage's would be fun to share with him.

Worthington Manor became a fort from which they held off the vicious and barbaric Vikings; another time it transformed into a fairytale castle guarded by giant dragons and elves with pointed ears. Erik was the prince that needed rescuing and Gage was the knight coming to his aid.

They sat outside on the lawn beneath a wide spread of sparkling stars. Erik rested flat on the ground and Gage had his head propped on his papa's tummy.

Erik had determined that it was time to talk to Gage about his injuries and explain that things may never be the way they used to be for him. He tried to think of the most logical and least painful way of broaching the subject.

"Papa, what is it like to have eyes that cannot see?"

Apparently, Gage had no problem just asking straight out.

"How did you find me in the woods when you could not see me?"

Erik took a deep breath and waited for more questions – Gage was inquisitive and highly intelligent – nothing escaped his notice.

"You walk through the house and all over the place without stumbling over anything…how do you do that?"

Erik could sense his bright eyes on him, and assumed there were no more immediate questions.

"It is a long story, Gage; let us just say that my childhood was not a happy one and I spent the greater part of it moving through this house at night – trying to avoid being seen or heard."

"Your mama and papa did not want you…just like my mama does not want me?"

Something ripped in Erik's heart at hearing his son speak so flippantly about not being wanted by his mother.

"My parents knew I existed only when I was a disgrace to them."

Gage wrapped his tiny arms around his papa's waist as he crawled on top of him to lay flat against him; he turned over with his back atop Erik's chest and stared at the stars.

"Papa, do you think I can go touch a star someday?"

Gage asked the question with such intense interest and total faith that Erik wanted to give him the stars and moon if it were possible.

"Anything is possible, Gage; who knows what secrets are locked away in the minds of men."

Erik's response seemed to satiate his active thoughts for a while and they lay silently listening to the sounds of the night; but Gage just could not keep the silence for very long. He turned back over and wrapped his small arms around Erik's large chest.

"Someday, I am going to be as big as you are!" Gage exclaimed, squeezing hard to hug his papa. "Thank you for wanting me, papa."

The last phrase brought tears to his eyes and Erik wished with all his heart that he could see his son's face; witness the love he heard in his voice as it shined in his eyes.

A light, warm mist began to fall to the earth and Erik encouraged his son to go inside; Erik picked him up in his arms and moved back toward the house.

"How do you know which way the house is?"

Erik smiled, not really knowing how to answer that question.

"I do not really understand myself, son…I just know."

►▼◄

Somehow, several weeks later, Erik found himself sitting across from Lucy. It was a living nightmare when she had shown up at the front portico demanding entrance.

The kitchen maid carried in a pot of tea; the clanking of the teacups atop the tray upon which she carried them alerted him to her intent; he waited for her to set the tea down before speaking softly, but firmly.

"We will not be needing tea, Violet; the _lady _will not be staying that long."

The emphasis he put on the word "lady" left Lucy knowing exactly how he felt about her. His deep eyes focused on her with an eerie accuracy that had her wondering if he really was blind.

"What do you want, Lucy; I am certain I have nothing left to say to you?"

Her nervous chuckle was almost enough to bring a smile to his face…almost.

"How is Gage?" She finally asked, hoping to stand on neutral ground.

Erik cocked his head and allowed his dark hair to fall menacingly over his forehead, creating an air of complete confidence and masculine arrogance.

"You are not even worthy to inquire about his well being…so do not attempt to."

"I have rights, Erik..."

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME OF RIGHTS, YOU VILE EXCUSE FOR A WOMAN!"

He had raised his voice…more accurately…he had yelled, and Lucy was certain he was going to carve her heart out with the piercing green of his eyes. His voice lowered, but the deadly calm that had crept into it was even more threatening than his yell.

"You gave up any and all rights to him when you left him on the front portico of this house without so much as a backward glance."

"It was raining, and I did not wish to get wet…he was fine…once…"

Erik narrowed his eyes, although he did not look at her. He sucked in his breath as if trying to hold back a biting retort. When he spoke, his tone was dark and dangerous.

"He stood out there, shivering in the cool rain, wondering why his own mother was leaving him with a bunch of strangers…it matters not what your reasons were."

She shrugged her dainty shoulders, not seeing the error in her ways – in her demented mind, she had nothing for which to feel ashamed.

"This is getting us nowhere…" She stated, her voice trailing off; unwilling to meet his empty gaze any longer. "How do you even know he is your son?"

Erik scoffed loudly and abruptly stood, towering over her like a giant bird of prey.

"First of all…" he laughed without humor, "…there is no 'us', and second of all…" he seemed to grow three inches in that moment as he loomed over her,"…he is my son and you know it…the evidence is in his eyes, his hair, and the shape of his mouth…even if no physical proof existed, he would still be my son."

She stood up and placed her body flush against his – feeling the power he possessed, but also knowing that he had weaknesses within him – like love and compassion.

Erik almost recoiled at the feel of her against him. He had never been so repulsed in his life. Could he ever trust a woman again? Could he ever allow one to touch him or get close to him again? He doubted it.

"Do not fight me on this Erik…or things could get ugly." She hissed softly, running her fingers up his thigh and provocatively skirting across his groin.

"Uglier than they are right now…with you standing in my house touching me suggestively in a manner that makes me want to retch all over you?"

She yanked her hand away and realized she no longer had any hold over him. She looked him up and down and marveled at the beauty he still possessed, even with that hideous scar over the right side of his face.

"You once worshiped the ground I walked upon." She purred, trying to wile him once again.

Erik's smile did not touch his eyes, "That was before I realized that it rotted beneath your feet."

If she had had the courage, he was certain she would have spit in his face at that point…he was not going to make this easy on her.

"I have a brilliant lawyer on my side, Erik…and he tells me that I have rights that I need to exercise; rights that entitle me to your money – what little there is - as long as I spend time with the whelp."

Erik did not know whether to laugh at her or strangle her. She was using Gage to get money from him; Goswick was unscrupulous and treacherous to suggest such a thing when it was evident that she did not care for Gage in any way.

"A brilliant lawyer…what happened to Virgil…did he finally find a living woman – one with a beating heart?"

She glared at him and slapped her hand across the unscarred side of his face.

"Mark my words, Erik…you will be hearing from me again."

His laugh had no humor; but was full of intense fury and blaring hatred.

He heard her leave and rubbed his cheek…he was certain a slap had never felt so good; he had managed to ward her off this time, but she had some sort of plan in the making…or Goswick did….either way, things were going to get ugly.

◄▼►

A few days later, he found himself standing beside Alastair Goswick, one of London's most sought after solicitors. Mr. Goswick had requested an audience with Erik, but Erik had declined to come into London; instead, the young lawyer rode out to Worthington Manor.

Looking around him with disgust evident on his handsome features, Alastair's smug scoff did not escape Erik's superb hearing. He also heard the strike of a match and smelled the smoke of a cigarette.

"Do you have something to say, Goswick?" Erik asked, with calm deadliness; coming to a stop directly in front of him.

"This place is pathetic; Worthington…whatever made you think you could hold onto a woman like Lucy and offer only this place as a home?"

In what seemed like an instant, Erik had the cigarette out of Alastair's mouth and snuffed it out between his thumb and finger – his disgust at the smell evident on his face.

"This is my house, Goswick, and there is no smokingt…" Erik announced. He turned and began walking toward the parlor, and Alastair had no choice but to follow. "…and who said I ever wanted to hold onto Lucy…she was my mother's ideal of a wife - not mine."

Alastair sat down, eager to light another cigarette, but he thought twice about it and decided against it.

"I suppose you are here acting as her solicitor." Erik stated.

"Yes, I am…a revealing bit of information has come to my attention."

Erik rolled his eyes before sitting down; unsure of what Alastair was indicating. "What sort of information?"

"Information regarding a certain young woman who was on the receiving end of your affections without her consent…if you catch my meaning."

The color drained from his face and Erik felt the bitter taste of bile fill his throat. This could not be happening….he had never…

"It happened about ten years ago at a party you attended while training for the Royal Navy." Alastair continued.

Darkness swooped around him, engulfing him in its cold talons. Betrayal swirled bitterly in his mouth…and again – a woman was involved; the reality of it hit him square in the heart.

"It never happened, Goswick…never." Erik stated, the panic within him not surfacing in the smooth denial that he gave.

"That matters not, Worthington…the point is, I have a most reliable source that says it did."

Erik could not believe this was happening…his career and reputation did not matter, but they would never allow a small, impressionable child to stay with a suspected rapist.

"Where did you hear this…did she tell you…the woman I spoke with that night?"

Alastair laughed; the sound grated down Erik's spine like the shrill squeal of a banshee.

"Talked…you did more than talk, my man…that much is true…" Alastair confronted him, "…besides, it matters not where I heard it…or if it is accurate…." He smiled with a sickening assurance, "….the point is, I have a solid witness that says it happened."

Erik felt ill; the fact that the one moment of joy he had found in a woman's arms had been all an act…a ruse to put him in a compromising position.

"She does not even want Gage…why is she doing this?" Erik whispered, dread filling him.

Alastair got up out of his chair and walked over to where Erik sat; still holding his head up high, as though nothing could touch him.

"You are right, and I do not want him around either…I want Lucy to myself."

Erik felt the clammy touch of Alastair's hand on his shoulder; its sickness seeping through the material of his shirt.

Erik stood, towering over Goswick, "Then why?"

"Money and status, Worthington…two things she and I both want…." the shorter man stood directly in front of Erik with a cool, calm demeanor, "…bringing you down a notch or two in the public eyes ought to do it."

Erik hated blackmail…especially when the accusations were false. He had no way of proving that they were not…so what was he to do?

"You will never get away with this, Goswick…the truth will come out…somehow…someday."

Alastair did not seem to hear the promise, he spun around and took his seat once again; reeling in the victory he held over the mighty Commodore Erik Worthington.

"Imagine…a war hero - loved by the queen - accused of rape…" the dead black of his eyes held ruthless promise, '…shall we talk terms?"

That day, Erik's world truly turned black.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

I had not mentioned in previous chapters that Erik was blind, I hinted to it with the flow of the words, but never came straight out and said it.

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews; each of you mean a great deal to me and inspire me even when I don't feel like putting anymore into it.

God Bless Each of You.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 4 – Dark is My World

_Two years have passed and Erik has become a stranger to everyone around him, except his son; his only treasure in the world and the one person keeping him sane._

_Gloucester, England, late spring 1858, Worthington Manor _

The household settled into a dark reverie. Its master fought daily with throbbing headaches and consuming bitterness; uncertain where his place was in the world, fearing that at any moment someone would take his precious son away from him.

He moved about with little care about his surroundings or the repairs that needed doing on the outside and the inside of the house. He became anti-social toward everyone, discerning that there had to be something wrong with him that made people – women in general – treat him as they did.

His only reprieve from his self-imposed prison; was his servants – especially Anne and Wesley Roberts. Anne was the only woman Erik felt that he could trust…and he loved her dearly.

Anne could not take the slow degradation of the master she thought of as a son. She watched him slip further away – only experiencing life when Gage was around him – otherwise, he seldom interacted with anyone.

She and her husband of many years, Wesley, sat in the parlor awaiting their guest; a young woman they hoped would take a position as Erik's nurse and Gage's nanny. Every applicant they had seen thus far had either not been up to the job, did not wish to look after a man of Erik's considerable size and reputation; or, were just too old and haggard for the job.

"What could be keeping her?" Wesley inquired, biting his lower lip while trying to keep the nervous wrinkle out of his brow.

His animated eyebrows seemed to have a life of their own as he contemplated the intricate workings of the universe – or whatever had his mind occupied at the present.

Anne moved toward him carrying a freshly baked scone, and he was certain he managed to lick his full lips in anticipation – even with his continued dissatisfaction at their guest's tardiness.

"Oh, do stop fussing, Wesley; we are lucky she has even come to apply – she is the best applicant so far…and we are past desperate."

Anne giggled at her husband's anxious antics. He never failed to make her laugh, not once…in all the thirty years they had been married.

It seemed to take a great deal of effort on his part to pull his attention from a rather determined fly that kept ferociously pursuing his scone; he finally swatted it rather forcefully and the fly gave up its ambitious quest and flew away.

He leveled his deep brown eyes on his wife's pixy features and smiled a victorious smile before turning serious.

"I do not know, Anne; her request stated that she was only twenty-six…he will not appreciate a young woman being around."

Anne gave a definitive "tsk", and smirked at him. It was high time the "Commodore" had a bit of a wrinkle in his lonely, bleak existence. A six-year-old little boy was not the only companionship a grown man needed…everyone knew this. For too long, she had watched him slowly turning into someone she barely knew; he needed more help than she or Wesley were capable of giving.

"She is plenty old enough to handle what she needs to handle, and her credentials seem quite impressive."

Anne noticed that Wesley seemed more fidgety than normal and she wondered why.

"What is wrong, my love, you seem determined to jump out of your skin?"

Wesley could not keep silent, he knew there would be trouble if this young woman became a member of the staff and resided under the same roof as _him_.

"If he finds out…"

Anne laughed; she couldn't help it. Wesley was the one who worried about everything; she never had to.

"Oh dear, will you stop! He needs to have some challenges in his life; he needs someone to come in and totally turn his world upside down…" Anne smiled sadly, her mind flooded with sad memories, "…he needs someone to show him that there is more to life than what he has been experiencing these last few years."

Anne heard the distinct sound of a carriage pulling up and smiled, trying to put Wesley at ease; he looked about ready to bolt from the room like a rabbit.

The young woman they had been waiting on finally entered the room; she carried her reticule in her hand and approached Anne with an apologetic smile.

"Do accept my apologies; I must be a bit nervous." The young woman stated, "I did not mean to come so late, but I wanted to apply for this position."

Anne smiled broadly, noting the young woman's strangely beautiful, exotic coloring. Her eyes were the color of deep violet, and the strands of hair that filtered through the staunch hat perched atop her head were an odd silver color. Anne noticed her unusual height, about two inches shorter than her husband, who stood about six feet tall; and her rather curvy build; she was ample in all the womanly places.

Her other features were not extraordinary, but she had a glow to her pale skin that seemed to come from somewhere within her; her forehead was short and broad; her cheeks were refined and sloped into an oval chin and a long, flawless neck. She wasn't beautiful in the classic sense, but she was certainly lovely.

Anne retrieved all the papers from the satchel and proceeded to look the over; paying close attention to the young woman's experience and education.

"Well, your papers are certainly impressive and well written….and you are more than qualified for what we would be asking of you."

Wesley stood over her shoulder and looked curiously at the papers; references and letters of recommendation, as well as documented proof of her education. All was in order, and he lifted impressed eyes to meet the young woman's impassive gaze.

Wesley and Anne continued to read, giving the young woman a chance to take in her surroundings. It was dark and gloomy in the room, the flickering, unsteady light of the candles and lamps did very little to improve the dreary ambiance; she hoped it was the lateness of the hour that caused the house to be so shadowy.

The manor had once been an impressive display of English history and modern luxuries. Now, heavy, dark curtains guarded the windows, the furniture and fixtures were shabby and unkempt, and the floors needed a good sweeping and mopping; it seemed as though no one cared anymore.

The house seemed to be crying out for attention; for the love and laughter that had once painted the walls and filled the air. There was a story of pain that lived within these neglected bulwarks, and she aimed to learn more about it.

A petite kitchen maid delivered more tea; leaving it on the large oak table that complimented the room.

Anne seated herself and reached for the teapot. A thunderous roar made its way through the halls and muscled its way into the parlor; causing a tense Wesley to raise both brows and abruptly exit the room.

Anne pulled her hand back from the pot as though it had burned her and watched him leave with a stunned, stony look on her face; she quickly returned her gaze to the young woman before her.

She was rather tall and pleasantly full-figured. The eyes that stared inquisitively at her were the same warm violet that rested in the sun's shadow at dusk, and they were full of knowledge beyond her years.

Anne had a good feeling about the young woman, but did not want to seem overly enthusiastic about her feelings. She placed a detached look on her face and appeared to be mulling over the possibilities when she addressed the young woman.

"Miss…" she fumbled through her mind for the name she had read on the papers, "…Darcy…" she smiled as the young woman nodded in agreement.

"You were not quite what we had in mind…" she stated with a steady voice, making Miss Darcy as uncomfortable as a pig at the market, "…you are a bit young…."

Perching one brow in a perfect arch, the young woman smirked knowingly.

"I am only young if you do not consider my experience, Mrs. Roberts; surely you can see that I am more than qualified to take this position."

"I have no doubt that you are my dear…"

This time, the roar was longer and seemed to echo from everywhere. Heavy footfalls seemed to shake the entire house as whoever was behind the beastly sound seemed determined to break through the ceiling.

Just as Anne was about to take a seat and pour some tea, Mr. Roberts flew into the room and shut the door firmly; breathing heavily and looking relieved and exhausted – at the same time.

Not wanting to alarm their guest, Wesley stopped rubbing his forehead in frustration, smiled with mock sincerity, and chuckled fretfully. He righted his stance and straightened his tailored jacket before addressing her.

"They are just playing, thank goodness; I thought the worst…" he smirked and rolled his animated eyes, "…I always do."

Miss Darcy sat quite still, taking in the whole scene in a rather comical way. The Commodore had them all in an uproar and he had not even shown his face…she was not sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

"Who is playing?"

Husband and wife shared an amused look before Anne began to speak.

"Well…." Anne's mouth curled at the edges in a strained smile, and her voice lifted as though she was thinking of way to get out of saying anything else.

Before she could come up with a reasonable answer, a little, raven-haired boy with bright teal eyes came barreling into the room as though running from some invisible monster.

He halted abruptly when his alert gaze caught sight of Miss Darcy. His angelic face lit up and his head tilted to the right at a curious angle. He was dressed in odd clothing, looking like he had just returned from an African safari

He ambled toward her after apparently determining that she was harmless, and extended his tiny hand forward in a greeting.

"Hello, my name is Gage…who are you?"

She smiled broadly at his inquisitive friendliness, and vigorously shook his hand; but behind her bright eyes was a guarded shock that screamed loudly of her surprise…she had not expected there to be a child in the house.

"Well hello there, Gage; my name is Christine…Christine Darcy."

His grin spread from ear to ear as he released his tight hold on her hand. He gave a chivalrous bow; causing his dark hair to drop unceremoniously into his face; leaving only the cobalt glow of his eyes to smile at her.

"Miss Darcy…" Wesley Roberts cleared his throat and took his seat once more. "…I am afraid we were not completely forthright in our advertisement for a nurse…" he glanced at his wife who urged him on with a glaring look, "…whoever we hire will also need to act as a nanny for Gage...in fact, it is best if _he_ never know you are a nurse."

Christine looked back down at the young child and could not help but fall in love. He seemed so eager to be near her and something in his beautiful eyes just begged her to stay.

There were unanswered questions that needed asking, but Christine held her tongue for the time being; there would be plenty of time for that later. She had come here with the intention of obtaining the job, and a small child was not enough of a deterrent to change her mind.

"I will take the job." She announced with a finality that had her chin poised stubbornly in the air and an amusing tilt to her head.

Mr. and Mrs. Roberts shared a look again, glanced at Gage, and then looked at Christine.

"We have not offered it to you just yet."

Christine sighed and shrugged her shoulders, seemingly unconcerned with that detail.

"I see no other applicants banging at your door to fill this position; I am willing to do it without even knowing the salary…and you will not regret it."

Roberts looked at Anne who looked at Roberts and they both nodded in unison.

"Welcome to Worthington Manor, Miss Darcy….we will try to make your stay here as pleasant as possible."

Christine nodded and stood up, eager to see the rest of the house and meet the lord of the manor.

She took Gage's hand in hears and squatted down to his level.

"Gage, how about you show where that tremendous roar was coming from…can you do that for me?"

He shook his head vigorously and began leading her precociously to the ornate spiral staircase that lead upstairs.

He chattered incessantly as they made their way up the elaborate stairway and Christine was impressed by his vast vocabulary.

The little boy eased his steps and began to tiptoe the rest of the way. Christine covered her mouth with her hand to hold back the giggle that was begging to be released; he looked like tiny explorer about to make a magnificent discovery.

"My room is right here." He whispered, carefully inching his way toward the door.

They entered what could easily have been a disaster zone at first examination, but upon further inspection, Christine saw that the room had been transformed into what resembled a man-made jungle.

Someone had taken great strides in bringing plants and foliage of varying types and recreating a jungle forest. It was really quite remarkable.

In the far corner of the room, nestled between two rather large, fabricated trees, was a tent of considerable size; although that would be considered strange under most circumstances, it seemed to fit the room perfectly. She glanced over to the other corner where two more "trees" stood and hanging securely and invitingly between them was a hammock.

"Shhhh…." Gage insisted with his finger to his lips, "….the lion is sleeping now…I must sneak up on him and capture him while he sleeps."

Resuming his tiptoeing, Gage would have proceeded without problems, if Anne had not interrupted in her concerned fashion and halted his efforts.

"Perhaps it is best that we allow him to rest, Gage…he could be very grumpy if awakened before it is time."

She urged him in the opposite direction, explaining the woes of interrupting his father's sleep.

He placed his tiny hand over hers and said in a very serious tone, "It is going to be fine, Miss Anne…it is only Papa; he is pretending to be a big lion in his den…" he winked one eye and scrunched up one side of his adorable face as he searched for the correct word, "…during hipertation season."

She did not correct his English, but let the mistake go unchecked by smiling and encouraging him to continue his task.

Anne stood up and shrugged her shoulders; relieving herself of any responsibility should things go strangely wrong. Wesley suddenly threw up his hands and shrugged his thin shoulders, as though washing his hands of the entire ordeal.

Gage was free to run into the tent this time, and he apparently collided successfully with his father's hibernating form. His endearing boyish laughter filled the room as he proceeded to be tickled by his prey.

"Papa…" Gage's pleading voice began after the tickling had ceased, "…we have a visitor."

"Do we?"

Those two words would normally have been rather generic, but the voice that carried them was anything _but_ generic…deep, silky, and dripping with masculine beauty, Christine found herself anticipating his entrance.

"Yes sir, my new nanny."

Silence ensued as everyone in the room watched Commodore Erik Worthington come out of that tent as quickly as if someone had told him the house was on fire.

Filling the width of the tent flap with his broad shoulders and standing impressively close to six and half feet, was a bear of a man. He had once been neat and orderly, as evidenced by the fine cut of his clothing and the expensive leather of his boots; however, little of that man remained. He was animalistic and raw in his masculinity, and that part of him called to the woman in her, from across the distance – making it seem that they were within inches of each other.

His clothing was thread bare and stained. The sleeves of his once spotless white silk shirt were rolled up to reveal strong forearms, lightly dusted with dark hair and the shirt hung loosely about his body – framing his lean hips; his boots were scuffed and dirty. The black pants that he wore were rumpled all over and fraying at the bottom; but they allowed her a view of his strongly muscled, long legs.

Despite these things, Christine felt compelled to fan herself from the heat he created; he was an alpha male and it was not an easy thing to do to keep from cowering beneath his impressive presence.

The scar that blemished his otherwise perfect visage was sunken, three inches long and an inch wide, causing the skin to appear puckered and aggravated; it was not pretty – but somehow, it only added to his attractive allure.

Long, unkempt, wavy, coffee-colored hair hung over his impressive shoulders, and framed his face with heavy whorls of charcoal silk; added to that was a scowl to top all scowls, making it difficult to stop gawking at the man.

He stood there, perturbed and surly, not looking at any one in particular.

"Nanny?" He inquired, his head hanging low to keep his eyes cast downward, "Wesley, we discussed this not two weeks ago." He stated; making it sound as though going against his wishes was a crime worthy of the death penalty. "Well…you listened and I ranted…but I made myself clear and the subject was closed; I vividly recall stating that there would be no nanny."

Wesley nodded and rolled his eyes, as if remembering the referenced conversation with difficulty.

Commodore Worthington moved away from the tent and proceeded across the room; coming to a halt directly in front of Christine; although his eyes never touched her.

His long-lashed lids drifted closed, and he breathed deeply, as though smelling the sweetest rose. His eyes finally opened and the depth of their color captivated Christine; deep, lustrous teal, like the turbulent waters of the sea after a ferocious storm – they were stunning…the most beautiful shade she had ever seen.

Captured by their beauty, she forgot about the scars that somehow only intensified his masculine beauty; she took a tentative, protective stop backwards, although he did not seem to notice.

He was not happy, that much was quite evident. There was enough of the genteel man in him to avoid an all out flair of his temper, but that did not stop the drawn look on his face or the immediate wall that he erected around himself. The power he held within his large frame was frightening to Christine, but the more primal part of her admired the very essence of such an impressive man.

Christine sensed that Wesley and Anne had initiated this entire thing and that the Commodore had not approved of the position – whether it was as a nurse and assistant to him or as a nanny to his son.

His nearness was unnerving, to say the least, but Christine found her eyes riveted to him and the rugged handsomeness of the unblemished majority of his face. For some reason, a reason she was unwilling to explore, Christine enjoyed looking at him.

"We do not require your services, Madam; please leave."

His words were confident, terse, and final - and it was only when he continued to stare through her rather than at her that his condition became evident…he _could__not _see her.

He moved from her as though dismissing her and headed toward the door without incident. Gage took his large hand in his and pulled him down to his level, whispering in to his ear.

After a couple of minutes of whispering back and forth, Erik stood up and turned toward her once more, his features had softened, giving Christine a glimpse of the man he had once been – before bitterness and mistrust took over.

"My son has informed me that I was rather rude, Madam…" he bowed his head toward her in an apologetic attempt, "…you will of course stay for dinner which will be served within the hour; at which time we will discuss your services."

He turned from them once again, and made his way through the door.

"It is Miss, Commodore…Miss Christine Darcy." Christine announced, loud enough to capture his attention.

She could have sworn she saw him visibly stiffen for a few moments, and then lower his head as though accepting the fate that had befallen him; then, he was gone.

Christine turned narrowing eyes to Wesley and Anne.

"There were a few important details you left out of your advertisement."

Anne rang her hands together and looked sufficiently embarrassed.

"Would you have come if we had said that he was a blind, scarred, former proud, brilliant man who no longer cared for life but held on for the sake of his son?"

Christine raised her chin and set her mouth in a stubborn line.

"Would I have come….yes….I would have come." She stated with confidence, "A challenge has never stopped me from doing what I know I am supposed to do…let alone, what I want to do."

Anne seemed to look at her with more pride at that point. She came forward and took Christine's hand in hers.

"He is a good man….for all intents and purposes….but he harbors much bitterness in his heart, and has since he was a child. He has fought betrayal and loneliness for the better part of his life and the past three years have been a living hell for him."

Christine tried to hide the shock that gripped her heart; but the reality of it resided in her eyes.

Noting the interest on the younger woman's face, Anne smiled sadly, "There is no need to clutter your mind with such things…not yet…you may not be staying."

Christine kept her thoughts to herself, but she would be staying, even if she had to sleep in the tent and forego her salary…she was staying.

◄▼►

He knew it was raining, the soft patter of the drops hitting the windows sang him a soft melody that succeeded in calming his frazzled nerves. He carefully opened the pane and felt the warm night breeze flirt across his skin. Every sensation seemed more pronounced since his sight had gone…almost four years it had been…and he had not adjusted yet.

Extending his hand out the window, Erik felt the cool of the rain quench his flesh and quell the fear of the unknown that had gradually become a constant companion. Fear was something with which he was unfamiliar. He had never faced it until he had awakened from a stupor to find that he was no longer a man but a pitiful creature that seemed to draw peoples sympathy…he hated himself all the more for that.

He opened the window further and hung his head over the threshold, reveling in the feel of the soft drops of rain as they massaged his scalp and made the playful, natural curls of his dark hair, spring to life. It was amazing how the simple things had suddenly become so enticing.

He pulled his head in and shook the droplets off, feeling them land upon his bare feet. He stripped the clothes from his lithe body and strode to the washroom; he knew every inch of his room without care. He washed his teeth, put a towel to his hair, and strode incautiously toward his closet.

Dinner was going to be a chore this evening…a woman…an unmarried, heavenly smelling woman was sharing his table; and it terrified him. He knew she had seen his face…a harrowing experience to say the least…so he was not even certain she would stay.

Nanny…Erik scoffed to himself and trailed his fingers through his damp mass of hair. There was no room in his life or Gage's life for another woman…especially a young, unattached woman.

_What I should do, is fire Wesley and Anne for even putting me in this position._ Erik thought to himself. _They knew I did not want another woman coming in and disrupting our lives with her fickle and self-centered ways. _

Even the words in his own mind were harsh and bitter…but he had to protect what was left of his sanity and the shards of his heart that lay untended around his soul.

As for Gage, Erik's thoughts softened and he pictured his young son in his mind…_How can he be so forgiving? His strength shames me…as does his capacity to love. _

He dressed as best he could, finally abandoning all efforts to tie his cravat, leaving it lopped unceremoniously around his neck; he left the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the cravat dangled over it.

His pants hugged his muscular thighs in a fashion that would make any woman swoon, but he cared not, and his delightfully tousled hair left the impression that he had just arisen from a tumble in the bed with a spirited partner.

The one item he _did_ get right was the white half-mask he wore on the right side of his face. The mask was a part of the public image he maintained; church – when he went; social events in town – when he went – and trips to London.

Loosing his sight had been a painful loss to deal with - until they removed the bandage from around his face and his hand had assessed the damage to his right cheek. A valley of gouges and ruts now dominated where flesh had once been; a canvas of scar tissue defined his features…and it made him sick.

He was hideous…a monster for the viewing. How could he ever live with himself, let alone have anyone else endure his company? So in the company of others, he covered his shame…hoping they would not turn from him in disgust.

He was miserable and defeated, a man who had once commanded the largest brigade in the Royal Navy…Erik Worthington, Esquire; reduced to a bumbling fool who could no longer see his way through the world; but was thankful he could not see himself.

He had given all he had to the service of his country, and was now left to live as an empty shell, devoid of his sight, his physical prowess, and his dignity…if he were a lesser man, he would have ended it all three years ago; but Gage was his reason for going on…even when he saw no purpose behind it.

A profound loneliness settled within him, spurring him on toward depression and self-hatred. He slammed the door behind him as he fumbled his way toward the dining room. Thankfully, he felt his son's tiny hand take a firm grip on his – guiding him around the obstacles that littered his pathway.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

This will be the last chapter for a while, I am going out of town and then I will have to catch up on my writing. Hopefully, in about a week I will be ready to post another chapter. It isn't that I don't have one written, but I need to write more chapters to compensate for the ones that I have posted. I like to be several chapters ahead of you. 

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 5 – The Walking Wounded

On most men, the white half-mask would have been comical and bothersome, but the Commodore wore it as though it were a part of him…born to be upon his face as naturally as the hair upon his head.

She had thought him striking of visage before, but now…the mask emphasized the shear, perfect masculine beauty of his left side. His eyes seemed to stand out against its pallid indifference, causing Christine to focus on their intense depths. She had no idea why he wore it, as she had seen his scars and they did nothing to hinder his masculine beauty...but he had apparently suffered ridicule and chastisement because of them.

He had brushed his long hair back and tied the sides away from his face using a single strip of leather; if his mask had been an eye patch, he would have made an impressively diabolical pirate…that image was firmly etched in her mind and it had her blood burning through her veins.

Normally, the failed attempt at buttoning his shirt and the untied cravat around his neck would have looked unsightly and undesirable….but the teasing expanse of exposed chest seemed to add to his roguish look, allowing Christine a very pleasing view of manly flesh, lightly frosted with dark hair.

He sat at the table, not even pretending to eat. He heard Gage and Christine at the table, but seemed unconcerned with the conversation, until Gage broke his silence.

"Papa, I think Christine liked my room."

He lifted his eyes, uncannily finding his sons excited eyes without seeing where he was. He smiled and nodded, but did not speak.

Christine listened to Gage's animated telling of story after story about his world travels…travels that had been exclusive to the four walls of his room.

"Papa has taken me all the places he has been….and we do not even have to pack!"

He was completely wrapped up in his world and Christine found his fairytale land as inviting as anywhere she had ever ventured to go. She allowed her eyes to drift back to the still form of her host. He sat sideways in the chair with one arm lopped over the back, his legs were crossed and his eyes were closed; but he was not sleeping, for his head was cocked to an angle and he listened to everything going on around him.

Gage had stopped talking long enough to eat the dessert that had been placed in front of him.

"Why do you not eat, Commodore?"

His chin lifted and his eyes opened, but he did not turn toward her voice.

"I do not see how that is any of your business."

Taken aback by the sting in his tone, Christine felt her own ire rising.

"There is no need to get crotchety…it was just an observation."

The smile that curved his lips was anything but pleasant; and he seemed to be fighting off a scathing retort.

"Roberts…" he growled through tight lips.

The butler, the one she knew as Wesley, had left the room and could not hear his master's call. Erik drummed his fingers against the dark maple of the table; growing more impatient with every passing moment.

"Roberts!" he grilled, pushing the name through clenched teeth; Christine wondered if the would respond better if the Commodore called him Wesley.

Christine glanced up and saw the gangly butler rushing toward the dining room with a steaming bowl of something in his hands. He was fervently trying not to spill it, but knew he needed to answer his master's call.

"Roberts!!" Erik screamed again, "Where is that confounded man when I need him?"

Wesley almost tripped over the edge of an area rug, but managed to maintain his grip on the bowl, and placed it safely in the middle of the table before standing beside the Commodore and acknowledging his call.

"I am right here, sir…where you need me to be."

Erik did not soften his eyes, but his tone was somewhat cooler.

"I am ready to retire to my chambers, tell the cook to give me one quarter of an hour to prepare, then he may deliver my meal."

"But, Commodore…." Roberts quietly protested.

Erik stiffened, threw his napkin on the table, and pushed his heavy chair away from the table. He tolerated no one undermining his decisions or questioning his authority.

"Did you hear my instructions?" Erik demanded, his voice growing more heated.

"Commodore…if I may be so bold as to suggest…."

Erik clenched his fists as they rested atop the table; the only visible sign that he was not pleased.

"No, you may not." Erik insisted with in a deceptively quiet tone; Christine could hear the warning that lurked just beneath the surface of his civility.

Roberts rolled his eyes and shrugged his skeletal shoulders; indicating to Christine that this was unusual behavior – even for their eccentric master.

"Commodore, is that really necessary?" Christine caustically asked, thinking he was being infuriatingly childish.

The man turned directly toward her as though he knew right where she was; the smile froze on her face and she felt a moment of dread as she stared back; fearing his wrath.

"The last time I checked, Miss Darcy, this was my home…and in my home, I do as I please..." A sardonic smile played about his perfect lips, and his beryl eyes challenged her, "…however, if that is disturbing to you, you may go out the door the same way you came in – unwanted and unneeded."

The words hurt, as she was sure they were meant to; there was no contest in his words, no room for argument. He mistakenly thought she would cower to his formidable domination; but he did not know her.

"Your acerbic tone will not work with me, Commodore; I am not some insipid little girl afraid of her own shadow…and I am certainly not afraid of you."

Fire flared in his sightless eyes…a fire that lit her insides into a burning mass of need that she was completely unfamiliar with…well, not completely…but she was not eager to give into it again…at least not yet.

"You should be, Miss Darcy..." he spat; his beautiful mouth curling into a livid snarl. "…for I have it on good authority that I am quite the hideous beast."

Christine riled him with a waspish laugh, "I am quite used to beasts, Commodore. I have a brother who is behind bars for murdering his business partner and best friend, and a sister who is quite possibly the most profoundly cruel person I have ever known…next to my mother that is."

Erik mumbled beneath his breath – something about her having never known his mother – and then stiffened his back and jutted his defined chin out as though daring her to continue.

"…so, Commodore…" she challenged with a soft, direct tone, "…perhaps it is _you _who should be afraid of me."

Somewhere deep within, Erik admired her spirit, but he dare not allow that to dominate his thoughts; no one had ever had the courage to speak to him in this manner. He graced her with a harsh smile that did nothing to soften his defined, cruel beauty.

"Miss Darcy, I assure you that I fear nothing, and certainly not arrogant females who think it their place to usurp my authority in my own home…if you think you will have any say on what happens in my home, you are sadly mistaken."

He could hear the acid in his raised tone and knew he was overreacting, but he could not seem to override the illogical, uncontrollable urge he had to prove to her that he was not a spineless, ill-mannered cretin. It was problematic at best, and the fact that it was problematic had him in a foul mood.

He would have continued his personal tirade, but he heard a small whimper that tore at the frayed strings of his shattered heart.

"Papa?"

Erik had forgotten his son was still at the table; and he immediately jammed his eyes shut in disgust and dropped his head in shame.

"Papa…why are you so angry?"

Erik cringed as he realized his son had just witnessed his lecherous temper; the one he had developed over the past two years; the one that was raw and boiling within him as he thought about the life that could so easily be taken from him at the whim of his ex-wife and her foppish companion.

Gage would hate him, now…he was certain of that. He had so little to offer the boy, other than his ominous presence on an everyday basis. He thought about his own father and the longing that had always been there to win his affection and love – by whatever means was necessary; he never wanted Gage to feel unloved or unworthy…he would not stand for it.

Erik slowly stood, not lifting his face to anyone, and left the table. As he reached the door, he paused and turned his head slightly, giving them his unmasked, perfect side.

"Please accept my apology." He whispered.

He quietly retreated and a part of her wanted to run after him and ease the pain she saw cross his features before he turned completely and walked away, but she sat still and watched Gage fight the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"Gage…sweetheart…" she rose from her chair and walked over to his trembling figure, "he was not really angry at me, we were having a heated discussion and sometimes it sounds like two people are angry when they really are not."

He lifted expectant, tear-filled eyes to her and his chin trembled with emotion.

"The last time Lucy came…she did nothing but yell at him and ignore me…" his little brow furrowed and the hair that hung in his eyes clung to his eyelashes as he looked through it – a miniature version of his father, "…he never got angry at her."

Christine glanced up at Wesley upon the mention of Gage's mother; and to his credit, he looked away in mock disinterest.

"Gage, Lucy is your mother…would it not be more appropriate for you to call her such?"

His little brow furrowed slightly before he spoke, as though he were weighing the size of his answer.

"She does not like for me to call her 'Mama'; she is ashamed of me."

He spoke those words without guile, and Christine felt her heart rip open. Mounting fury churned within her and she was thankful that Lucy was not present…she would have been consumed by it.

Normally, Christine would have thought his words were the result of a tiff he had just had with his mother – a love/hate situation where she would not let him have another cookie or some such thing…but this was not the case; he spoke plainly and without hesitation, he honestly felt that she was ashamed of him.

Brushing aside her unease, Christine swept out of her chair, bent over Gage's sulking form, and smiled, "Gage, I am sure it is approaching your bedtime, go on up to your room and get ready…I will be along in a few moments to tuck you in."

He dragged himself out of his chair and lifted poignant eyes, "Will Papa come and tell me a story?"

Not knowing what to say, Christine nodded, "I am sure he will…if he does it all the time."

Gage smiled, suddenly looking like the perky six-year-old she knew him to be.

"He tells the bestest stories!"

The beguiling child smiled broadly, wiped all traces of tears from his face, and vaulted up the stairs towards his jungle of a room.

She watched him disappear behind his door and then turned her attention to Wesley Roberts…she would call him Wesley, despite the Commodore's abrupt use of his surname; Wesley suited him.

"I think that went as well as can be expected." Christine stated with her hands on her hips.

Wesley grunted, rolled his eyes, and walked out of the room….it was certainly not going to be quiet and boring with her around.

"Ms. Lucy will be by to get Gage first thing in the morning and will keep him for a few days…too many, if you ask my opinion, but the master agreed to such terms."

Christine did not allow any emotion to show in her face as she accepted what Wesley was saying.

"I would think it best if she not know about you just yet…she may not be too keen on the idea of another woman being in the house."

Christine adamantly agreed…she was not ready to face Lucy just yet…she needed more weapons in her arsenal before that war began.

By the time Christine got up to his room, Gage was already carefully and lovingly tucked in and sound asleep.

►▼◄

Darkness descended over the manor; bringing with it sounds of the night. Erik had barely touch his meal, pushing it aside long ago. He sat in a straight-back chair drinking a shot of Scotch before allowing sleep to claim him.

His thoughts were dark; his own actions of earlier putting him in a stormy mood. He was not entirely sure what had come over him…all he knew was that her presence in the household had him feeling edgy and exposed.

To make matters worse, Lucy was coming in the morning to get Gage and keep him for three days…three excruciating days. Every time she showed up, Erik's skin crawled and he had to fight the demons that chanted at him to teach her a thing or two about how to kill a person with a single blow to the head or paralyze them in a number of ways.

He and Lucy had no use for each other any more, but the black cloud that Alastair had placed over him included allowing Gage to spend three days a month with them…a ruse to make her appear more motherly and docile in the eyes of the public. Their divorce had been more of a damage to her reputation than she had originally thought; and although Erik had little to smile about these days, the thought of Lucy suffering in any way made his full lips curl at the edges.

She had left him for Virgil Pollard; but had latched onto Alastair Goswick within six months of leaving Virgil without a second thought - much as she had him. She and Alastair were involved in a scandalous affair that had already spanned two years. The man was a gifted solicitor employed by one of the more prestigious law firms in London; and Erik despised him.

Erik and Alastair had reached a gentleman's agreement concerning the supposed rape charge against Erik and Alastair's need to have boundless income to support his many unsightly and unseemly habits. Erik paid Lucy a certain sum of money every month to keep the lie about the rape out of the papers and the courts. Gage was just a pawn they were using for publicity purposes.

The thought of that woman - or any woman - being near his son made him physically ill.

_You should have had the decency to die on that ship, you wretched man. _

Those words had sealed his fate. He had given her everything and she had stabbed his foolish heart through with them. He had done his best to make the ridiculous sham of their marriage at least tolerable; but she had not. He had never known such evil like the evil that resided in that woman. Had it not been for Gage…

Erik drained the amber liquid from the glass, throwing his head back with the same dogged determination with which he threw the destructive thoughts from his mind. He felt the searing sting of it scorch his throat as it went down. He had never been much of a drinker, but sometimes he needed the soothing results of it to keep his darker thoughts at bay and the pain from his headaches under control.

He had been a disappointment as a son; and now, he was a failure as a husband and as a father….to add to his festering wounds, there was another woman under his roof, and she was trying to wheedle her feminine way into Gage's heart; she had already succeeded in causing a wedge between them.

Perhaps he had handled the situation poorly, but he would do all within his power to drive her away…of that he was certain. He had put the fear of God into a crew of reprobates and turned them into one of the finest, bravest fighting fleets in all of Britain….what trouble could a swindling, conniving woman be?

It wasn't hard to determine what he would do once Gage was gone; he would seek the solace of the one love of his life…and hope that he was not discovered. He had heard enough about it when he father had been alive – and then again from his mother. No one needed to know.

He yawned with an elegant stretch and moved toward his bed; the house had gone deathly quiet, the only distinguishable sign in his dark world that it was nighttime. He stopped at the window and listened intently to the music of the night; its warm, seductive pull luring him into a peaceful place. However, it did not last long and Christine Darcy's voice interrupted his haven.

He would give the new nanny a sense of security for the time being, allow her to familiarize herself with the manor, but the good times would come to an end and she would be gone…he would see to that.

He eased onto the bed and under the sheets, reveling in the feel of the silk against his bare skin; a fitful sleep finally enveloped him and he tossed and turned through the entire night.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Here is a little chapter to give us a little more depth into the character of Christine. Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 6 - Her Little Corner of the World

Christine resisted the urge to slam the giant door to her room; her mood was almost as gloomy as the Commodore's at this point. How did she let it get so out of control? She fought against her own nature all the time; it seemed she was always speaking her mind and there had never been a point in her life when she had wanted to blatantly and openly challenge a man of the Commodore's bearing.

She mentally berated herself and pulled the cap from her head, yanking her hair in many places as she did so. She threw it on the bed and roughly removed her clothes, preparing to take a bath. She strode into the washroom and felt her pensive attitude ease a little bit. She smelled something absolutely heavenly and noticed the soap that awaited her attention.

She reached for it and relished the scent that covered her skin as she slowly and sensually eased the small bar over her body. She had never had such luxury before. Christine did not question where it had come from; not really sure she wanted to know. There had never been a place in her life for niceties and girlish whims. After leaving her childhood prison, there had not been the money for such things and Dr. Hanson had had no money for those things either.

Her long hair hung out over the back of the tub, falling over the floor like a silky blanket. She closed her eyes and inhaled the floral scent of the soap. She seldom felt like a woman these days, so this was a wonderful experience for her.

The tub was deep and made of the finest porcelain; and Christine hoped they did not object to her bathing often - she intended to take advantage of all the luxury that she could. After dozing for about an hour, Christine pulled her hair around and washed it - using the soap that was made available to her.

That monumental task took a few minutes and she arose form the tub feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. She wrapped the long towel around her curves and went to the impressive vanity. What a beautiful masterpiece it was; dark cherry wood with marble inlay and a beveled mirror. Christine ran her fingers lovingly over the ornamental piece and wondered from where it came.

She picked up the intricately carved, silver brush and admired it as well. Unused to such things, Christine was out of her element, but determined to adjust. She slowly and sensuously drew the brush through her thick, long, silver tresses and then pulled it into a single long braid that hung down to her backside. She turned around in the chair and took in her surroundings.

Her room was more than she would have ever expected it to be. Wesley had carried her luggage and various other items into the room and placed them upon a large, beautifully carved table. The attention to detail was absolutely stunning through the room; the plaster molding surrounding the ceiling and floors was something Christine had only heard about, but never seen. The spacious area was lightly populated with soft feminine furniture - a fact that stunned her - considering there were no women of status in the house.

The room was a soft yellow with the light blue furniture lined in gold. To Christine, it looked like something out of a fairytale; something a princess would have had in her room. Christine could not help the sad smile that covered her face as she remembered the stories her father had read to her when she was very small and before he had died.

She shook those thoughts from her head and arose to walk into the closet, where Anne had placed her clothes. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of putting the rough material over her soap-softened skin. She longed for lighter clothing, but there had never been the funds. Perhaps someday she could replace them with something more appropriate for her new job.

The deprived woman inside her desired to wrap herself in the finer things of life. She had never owned a beautiful dress or had a reason to wear one. She had always been told she was too tall and curvy to look good in a dress, and she had believed it. Would the Commodore even notice if she made more of an effort with her clothing?

Just thinking about his broad, thick shoulders and his chiseled, handsome features made her heart speed up. He was the epitome of everything she wanted in a man, along with being incredibly aggravating. She could not remember a time when a man had actually spoken to her without commenting on the oddity of her coloring or the unladylike way she spoke her mind. There had been numerous times throughout her life that she had been approached by men - not because they wanted to get to know her for the woman that she was - but because her enormous height, abundant curves, and strange coloring made them think she was a whore.

One of the most attractive things about this position - other than the Commodore himself - was the fact that the Commodore could not see her. She did not intend to let her guard down for any reason, he would never have a reason to think she was anything but normal - as long as she had anything to do with it.

Finding this position had been an answer to unspoken prayers; a way for her to escape the box that women were often put in and expected to accept without question. After escaping the clutches of her step-mother, Christine had not anguished over her lack of funds or station. She did odd jobs for anyone who would have her, careful not to get caught up with the wrong people. Thankfully, she had come upon Dr. Hanson fairly early in her young life and he had taken a fatherly interest in her. Under his tremendous tutelage, she had learned a great deal about medicine and discovered that she possessed a natural instinct for healing.

A few years passed and Dr. Hanson passed away, leaving Christine with few options. He had been a brilliant doctor, but a penniless one. He had made it clear in the five years she studied under him that he considered her his daughter and all that he had was hers; his one chance to marry - years before - had ended tragically with her death. He never made that commitment again. Christine had filled a giant void in his life and she had been more than willing to do so. His death had been a complete surprise; and unfortunately, he had nothing to pass down to her.

She had been more than eager to answer the call when the war broke out, throwing herself into the service of Britain with a vigor she had thought she did not possess. There had been many opportunities during that trying time to prove her strength and capabilities; especially to herself. She had seen things she had never thought to see, things that were forever imprinted on her; proving her worth many times. She had even studied and learned under Florence Nightingale, a woman who taught her the nursing side of what she had learned from Dr. Hanson.

There had been so many reasons to quit - so many faces that would never fade from her memory. There were times, deep in the hours of the night that she still heard the wailing and moans that often kept her awake for hours on end during the war. Peace was a hard thing to find in the midst of choas. Giving a dying soldier a warm hand to hold onto while he slipped into the arms of his Creator was an odd sense of purpose; but one that she had done many times. Having such an experience had left its scars, but they were constructive scars; unlike the ones that had been made by her childhood.

This job was a Godsend, in ways she was not yet ready to admit. She emerged from the very modern washroom after taking a very relaxing bath. The staff was very efficient when the Commodore was not lurking about. He apparently scared everyone with his looming presence and gloomy disposition; someone really had to teach him to live again. Not that she was really certain he had ever really learned how to live.

The room was opulant in its design. The windows matched the others in the house; Italian design, ten feet from floor to ceiling with intricate designs in the woodwork. The plaster work around the floors and ceilings was the best that any place had to offer and each room was equipped with a black Italian marble fireplace. The wallpaper was beautifully designed and each room had a different pattern. The whole manor, once it got cleaned up, would be almost unmatchable among the upper class homes in Britain.

Christine carefully looked at each piece of art and every tiny nic-nac that decorated the room. She had never seen such variety in a house; each one a testimony to its creator's talents. Such wealth had never been a part of her life; her step-mother had seen to it that she never had luxuries of any kind; she had horded her father's wealth and used it to make the lives of so many people miserable.

Tears filled her eyes at each thought of her father. He had been the only person in her life to offer love and peace; and he had abandoned her at the age of seven. Death - the most painful and permanent form of abandonment. The nightmare that followed had been almost unbearable, so she had left as soon as she was able to find a way out; left with only the clothes on her back and no money.

The advertisement in the paper had been like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow; and all the details involved had only sweetened the pot. There were so many things in her life that she could have regretted, but they had all led her to this moment - this place - and there was nothing that would keep her from doing what she knew needed to be done.

Looking at the bed filled her with complete warmth. She had never had such a large space to sleep all to herself and she was anxious to sink into the soft, overly-stuffed mattress and inhale the scent of clean laundry. She removed her robe and slipped between the sheets, feeling much like a small child experiencing such things for the first time. She could not supress the silly grin that covered her face as she breathed deeply and stretched her tight muscles. She felt like she had been offered a new start in life; a start that she had every intention of taking advantage of.

The window was left open to allow the coolness of the evening breeze to penetrate the heat that the sun had left behind, and Christine relished the sounds that crept into her room. She was happy at the moment - an emotion she had seldom experienced in her life; despite the fact that her employer was slightly on the grumpy side and seemed impervious to her nonexistent womanly wiles. Gage was adorable and deserved the best she had to give - and maybe through him, she could reach Erik.

She turned over on her side and cuddled closer to her pillow. The thoughts in her mind were finally of something other than dying men and hateful family members; a wonderful gift that allowed her to slip into a deep sleep filled with images of a green-eyed, broad shouldered man, who had no concept of his affect on her.

Somewhere over the course of the next couple of hours, Christine must have fallen asleep. She eased awake to a sound that seemed out of place in her world. It took a few minutes for her to realize that she was not in her world. The sound was above her, and the noise was the distinct fall of steps across the wooden floor. It was not that the floor creaked or made any other unusual sound, it was just the quiet stirrings of a sleepless man.

Christine still felt the gnawing wound in her heart that had not gotten any better since she had insulted him at the dinner table. It was not unlike her to do so, she had long since decided to express her opinion and go for the things she wanted in life - never mind the consequences.

She slipped on her gossamer robe and quietly slipped out of her room. The house was eerily silent and she was still not familiar with the entire layout; but she knew that it was the Commodore's living quarters above her - the entire third floor - it almost made her laugh. The candle she held illuminated the area around her nicely and she easily pushed her way up the stairs toward the restless source of the ghostly sounds.

She stood before a massive door; beautifully carved with intricate designs of an Italian nature. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest and she was trying to convince herself that she had lost her mind and her nerve would soon follow. However, she found her hand raising to the door and sending a quiet knock resounding through it.

It never crossed her mind that it was inappropriate for her to be asking entrance to a man's room in the middle of the night - or at any time, for that matter. She only knew that she needed to apologize for arousing his anger and suspicions at the dinner table.

Erik was not certain he had heard correctly. The knock was an unexpected sound, and he was certain he had imagined it. He could not seem to wish away the nausea and unease that had kept him awake for most of the night; not that he could have slept anyway. Sleep was a stranger to him for the most part. He drifted off occasionally, but he never succeeded in sleeping more than a couple of hours on any given night. His head constantly ached, something the doctor's had told him would be a part of his life until the day he died - pending a miracle.

The knock sounded again and Erik knew he was not imagining it. He silently approached the door and opened it with confidence. He could not see her, but he could sense her presence and he caught the scent of Lavender on the air. He had noticed it yesterday when they had been introduced, but the last thing he wanted to do was feel any attraction toward this woman.

"Commodore...I heard you stirring and thought that I would come and keep you company for a few minutes. I could not sleep, and I want to talk to you."

Erik lifted the dark wing of his brow and stepped aside to allow her entrance. He found the situation intriguing, if not unusual.

"Miss Darcy, it is highly improper for a young lady to come into a single man's sleeping quarters at any time, let alone in the middle of the night. Did not your mother teach you such things?"

Christine smiled, despite her irritation at being treated like a child by this infuriatingly beautiful man. He stood before her in nothing but a pair of sleeping pants and a loose robe thrown over his stunning form. She was unwilling to allow her eyes to drift over his bare skin, even though she knew he could not see her; something told her that he would sense her appraisal.

"I assure you, Commodore, I have never been mistaken for a lady - and I have never claimed to be one." She stated with a bite in her words. "As for my mother; she died when I was born."

That made him frown slightly, but she did not seem affected by the sadness of that admission, so Erik brushed his frown from his face. She had admitted to not being a lady and not having a mother to teach how to be a lady...not that he minded. If she were a lady, this conversation would not be taking place.

He had not seated her yet, but was standing with his arms crossed over his chest as though waiting for her to get to the point of her visit. His reaction to her admission to not being a lady was not what she had expected. There was a strange, quirky smirk over his full lips that had her thinking he admired her spunk.

"May I inquire as to the purpose of this rousing visit?" He asked, still holding his lips in a smirk.

"I came to offer my apologies for earlier...at the dinner table. It is really none of my business..." If possible, his brow rose even further as he reacted to the shock of her apology. "...I tend to insert my thoughts whenever they occur to me and this has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion - as I am sure it will continue to do in the future."

Erik was speechless; he had never met a woman like her before. She clearly admitted to not being a lady - in the traditional sense - and now she was apologizing for some of the behavior that had branded her with such a label. He tried to keep his reaction to a small quirk of his brow, but he was strangely aroused by her lack of refinement.

He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging her efforts and turned from her to the giant fireplace in the corner.

"I accept your apology, and I will offer my own. I tend to overreact to things; things that may seem rather mundane to others. So please..." he turned toward her once again; his eyes fixed on her in with deadly accuracy and a strange, warm glow, "...forgive my outburst."

Her quiet sigh assured him that she had heard him and was considering his offer.

"All is forgiven, Commodore. Tomorrow is another day and I understand that Gage will be leaving for a few days. Do you have any preferences as to what my activities for those days are to be?"

He had not considered it, hoping that she would have turned right around and left as soon as she saw him; but some deficiency in her character had encouraged her to stay. He headed back toward the door, easily bringing their meeting to a close.

"No, Miss Darcy, I have no preferences...I am sure you will find plenty to occupy your time."

He opened the door and she walked through it, turning to regard him with big, wondrous eyes. He was a certainly intimidating with his masculine arrogance, but she found him completely irresistible. She leaned toward him, unaware that her scent was wrecking havoc on his senses.

"Good night, Commodore; sleep well."

He did not dwell at the door, but closed it quickly and firmly. What in heavens name had come over him? He would not - simply would not - allow himself to be attracted to this woman. She threatened all that he held dear and would just as soon cut open his chest and stomp upon his beating heart as to be near him. He firmly brushed aside any inclinations he had toward her.

_You are not attracted to her, you beast...you know better than that. You are hideously scarred, blind, and no woman can tolerate you.  
_

Erik shook the thoughts from his head and tried once again to fall into a dreamless sleep. Once sleep took over though, he was certainly not without dreams.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you everyone - your reviews and opinions mean a great deal to me. I listen to and take to heart all of your suggestions and I tend to add chapters if my readers express an interest in learning more about a certain character or need clarification on things that I write about.

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 7 – Be Still My Heart

Christine did not find it easy to think straight when she made it back to her room. Her heart was pounding in her chest so frantically that she could visibly see its pulsing cords in the hollow of her neck as she stood before the mirror.

What was she thinking? Everything about him had her body on full alert and she could feel his spell wrapping around her more firmly with each moment that she spent in his presence; but she had felt the overwhelming need to apologize to him.

She ran to the bed and pounced upon it, feeling young and carefree with the rush that being near him provided her. She scooted beneath the covers and hugged them to her neck as if she were a child.

He had her all twisted inside and she was a realist...she knew what was happening to her and she was willing to let it happen.

_Come on, Christine...you have not been around him for very long...how can you be in love with him? _She chastised herself.

But she was - and it was a process that had developed over years.

When she had first learned of the position, she had all but jumped at the opportunity. Commodore Worthington was a hero and a legend in Britain - and she would not leave him to the wolves. Even with all that she knew of him, she had not been prepared for the harsh truth; he was not the man he used to be…and it broke her heart.

If anyone deserved to wallow in self-pity and develop a strong hatred for the world and everyone in it, it was Commodore Worthington. However, it seemed he was content to stay hidden away in his little alcove in the country and forget about the world that so needed men of his caliber to step up and make changes.

Oh yes, she had done her homework; and Commodore Erik Worthington deserved better than what he was getting; he deserved to rise above his circumstances and be the man he was meant to be…long before his insufferable family and betraying, so-called friends got their hands on him.

She slammed her eyes shut, forcing her mind to ease its fascination with the Commodore and everything that surrounded him. However, as she drifted into a peaceful rest, the smile that graced her lips told another story altogether.

◄▼►

The next morning seemed like a dream to Christine, she was unsure of her surroundings until she remembered the previous day's events. She breathed in the air, relishing in the freshness of it and the smell of the morning flowers as they bloomed.

She took a sponge bath from the pitcher and ewer, dressed in practical clothing, and silently descended the stairs headed towards the dining room. She was halfway down when she heard voices floating her way; Lucy had arrived to retrieve Gage, and just the thought of that woman being near Gage sent her fists into tight balls and a blush of fury to her cheeks.

She slowed her steps to prevent being seen, and hid behind a large marble pillar that adorned the main hallway.

Christine did not have to see the woman to know what she looked like…beautiful…with pouting, ruby-colored lips; glossy, golden blond hair, the perfect cherub face, the perfect height…perfect everything.

Any other woman would have a hard time comparing to that.

_I would venture to say that she has no visible flaws_…_a look that matches Erik's masculine beauty wonderfully._

Christine's thoughts drove her hand to check the silver tresses that were carefully pinned atop her head and covered by a plain nurse's cap, and she heard again the echoing taunts and painful jibes she had grown up with, criticizing her five feet, ten inch frame and strange coloring. She was a freak by any standard and men recoiled from her as though she was the personification of the black plague.

She found it refreshing that no one in this household seemed to care that she was a full head taller than most women and the few times they had caught glimpses of her hair, they had not commented…so, it seemed she had found a place to call home…for now.

She pulled her attention back to the present, concentrating on Gage; all she could see of him were his tiny feet as they walked out the door and away from the home that she knew he loved very much.

There was no sign of her temperamental host, so she took the liberty of exploring her surroundings on her own. She had barely had a chance to see the house last night, but now she realized that the dark and gloomy atmosphere had not been because of the late hour, but because the heavy velvet drapes that protected each window. It seemed that they had not been pulled open for months, maybe longer. A thick frosting of dust coated each dismal brown drape…causing Christine to frown and give a disgruntled scoff.

Every room she entered was more of the same – it seemed the whole house was in mourning. The servants scuttled about doing odd jobs, but there seemed to be no organization in their duties and no pride in a job well done.

It was a bright, early-morning, and not one ray of sunshine touched the inside of the house…at least as far as Christine could tell.

_This simply will not do…it cannot be healthy for anyone to live in these cave-like conditions._

Christine used the knowledge she had obtained through her years as a nurse, trained by those who were pioneers in the field; "Use your common sense, if something seems unhealthy – it most likely is."

Taking a handful of the heavy material firmly in her fist, Christine pulled at the curtains with all her might, hoping to break the bleakness of the room. In one failed swoop, the drapes cascaded to the floor in a pile of dusty velvet.

After sneezing profusely, Christine stood there staring at the mass of dark brown wondering who picked the horribly drab color in the first place. She sneezed a few more times, and then smiled as the bright warmth of the sun careened through the beautifully paned window.

It was at this perfect moment that Mrs. Roberts happened to brush by the door and glance inside the room, wondering where the light was coming from. Her whimper of shock caught Christine's attention and the two women shared a challenging look.

"Why is every window in this manor covered by dark, heavy drapes…allowing no light whatsoever into the house?"

Anne did not form an answer immediately; she was still scanning the room – her eyes falling on the gray layer of dust that covered everything in the room. The light had revealed the lack of care the room had had.

"Mrs. Roberts….I have a vested interest in keeping my patient healthy of mind and body and this manor is not making that task any easier; and Gage needs the same sort of healthy air and living conditions that the Commodore does."

The woman lifted her brow and straightened her shoulders. A few strands of gray hair peaked out from her bonnet, but Christine thought her to be no older than her mid-fifties.

"Do you deem tell me how to do my job, Miss Darcy?" Anne stated, with more than a little bit of amusement in her tone.

Christine held her chin high and refused to back down, she looked around the room once again and stated her concerns with more force.

"Mrs. Roberts, I need your help in this matter; you have known him longer than anyone and can lead me in the right direction when it comes to dealing with him. I sincerely request that you understand this…when it comes to the condition of the manor and the way those conditions relate to my charges…then yes…I will deem to tell you your job."

She worried her bottom lip before completing her thoughts, "The Commodore may have lost his sight, but that does not mean this house must be dismal and gloomy! He needs the benefit of the sun on his skin and the fresh air in his lungs."

Anne's mouth dropped open and she blinked steadily several times in a row before running her index finger along the beveled edge of a table and frowning at the amount of ugly dust that coated her finger.

She lifted one brow and smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She rubbed her hands together and then ran them over her apron before looking around the room with a determined, resolute look.

"I could not agree with you more."

A few minutes later, she drilled the names of the eight scullery-maids and chamber-maids, the four footmen that always seemed to be loafing about, needing something to occupy their time, and the two housemaids that answered directly to Mrs. Roberts.

"We have exactly two days to get this house in immaculate condition. No more dust gathering on the furniture, no more filthy floors…" she pointed downward – drawing all eyes to the dirty floor, "…I want to be able to see my face glaring back at me when I look down."

She walked over to the other floor to ceiling, brocaded French window and lifted the heavy drapes that still covered it.

"I want each set of drapes taken down, beaten, hung out to air, and then hung back up – BUT – they are to be left pulled so that we can have light in this house once more. For two years, he has let the dark, harsh reality of his world take the life out of him…no more."

A tentative clearing of throats collectively sounded around the room.

"What is it?" Anne asked with an irritated lurch in her voice.

One of the footman shuffled his feet before answering Mrs. Roberts.

"Why are we doing this…he does not even care anymore?"

There were some grumbling agreements and a few nods amongst them.

"How do we know…has anyone bothered to ask him?" Anne pointed out. "Just because he cannot see what is going on does not mean he does not care what this house looks like."

"I was just wondering what the master would think…that is all." The footman grumbled.

Christine lifted her eyes and used her full height as an advantage at this point. The footman's eyes rested on her and she smiled with ease, knowing he was uncertain.

"Leave the _master_ to me."

They continued to mumble, but it seemed Christine had earned a begrudging amount of respect in their eyes, and they all did as was expected.

►▼◄

Erik stumbled out of his room the next morning, having wrestled with his nightmares all night long. His head boomed and he had almost reached for a bottle of scotch upon rising; but he knew it was far too early for such things.

Almost immediately upon rising, he felt the dread of her presence within him and he had no desire to confront her at any point in time, but certainly not when his head pounded like a giant drum had taken up residence.

His stomach growled in protest at the amount of alcohol he had digested, bringing to mind the fact that he had not touched any meals that had been brought to him for a day or two.

_It would serve them all right for me to starve to death…then whom would they spend their days harassing?_

An ornery, wicked smile curved over his carved lips; for some unknown reason, he looked forward to making this new woman's life miserable – as was his time honored duty and his privilege as the master of the house.

Of course, in the mean time it dawned on him that she was also making his like miserable and a part of him wondered if that had been her intent all along. He scoffed loudly and lumbered down the hallway with little care as to his destination.

He had dressed without thought, pulling on a pair of wool pants and a shirt. He did not even bother to tuck in the shirt or button any more than the bottom four buttons, caring not if they were fastened correctly.

As he turned the corner to descend the stairs, he heard the one voice that he had hoped to avoid – preferably for the remainder of his days.

"Commodore…good morning…" she paused as if waiting for his reply. What he did not know was that she was scanning his appearance; noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of pain etched on his face. "…and what a beautiful morning it is."

Erik tried to smile, truly, he did; but he could not find it within himself to do so. Instead, a sound – rather like a grunt – formed in his throat and was out before he could do anything about it.

Christine chuckled, finding his dark moodiness amusing so early in the morning. He looked slightly askew with his shirt pulled out and unbuttoned – a fact that did not escape her wandering eyes – but he still managed to make her heart race.

"There is going to be some major changes taking place, Commodore; changes that you should be made aware of."

Erik arched an elegant brow – showing his disapproval of such actions.

"What sort of changes, Miss Darcy…this is _my_ house?"

She rolled her eyes, forgetting for a moment that he could not see her. He was exasperatingly arrogant and seemed unaffected by the vulnerability in which his blindness left him.

"I am very much aware of the fact that his is _your_ house…we will be cleaning mostly, removing furniture that is worn and beyond repair."

Erik considered her words, feeling less than unconcerned about the whole matter.

"Do not move the furniture without telling me, I have the entire layout of the house and grounds safely mapped out in my mind…the slightest change throws my world into chaos."

That had not really crossed her mind before, but she realized it made perfect sense. He relied on the unchanging patterns of the house to get around, and the smallest amount of change could spell disaster for him.

"So noted, oh wise one." She teased, wanting to ease the emptiness she sensed within him.

With an exasperated sigh, he moved past her and headed gingerly down the stairs toward the promise of food; he was desperately hungry and needed sustenance.

She followed him, admiring the masculine sway of his body and the predatory confidence of his movements. There were so many things about him that she found dreadfully attractive, but she sensed the lostness within him, and it called to her - drawing her unhindered to his side with velvet chords.

"There are ways to make moving around easier, Commodore…I am certain you know this."

He did not stop; did not nod or say anything; he continued down the stairs without pause and then turned toward the kitchen.

It only took him a moment to realize there was no one in the kitchen preparing his morning meal; just because he had refused to eat for a couple of days was no reason to cut him off altogether. He felt abandoned and chastised, much as a child would for bad behavior.

"The kitchen is being painted and cleaned, I can get you something to eat quite easily; but the cook is otherwise engaged."

He strolled over to the cabinet, felt around for his target, latched on to a banana and an apple and strode out of the room – not once giving her a moments consideration.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

I won't do this often, but this chapter just reacquaints us with Lucy and Alastair's cruelty and their conniving ways.

I dislike them both.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 8 - A Little Inconvenience

It never occurred to Gage to ask for a hug or any sort of affection from his mother; she refused to have anything to do with him for the most part. It wasn't until she was being scrutinized by the public, on the arm of her lover, that she paid him any mind at all.

He had only been in Alastair's home for a few hours and he already felt sorry for himself. All he wanted to do was fade into the wall or floor and be left alone. They did not care about him and it was obvious.

"I cannot be here tonight to watch over him, Fanny; I have a ball to attend..." she emphasized, admiring her own reflection,"...one that is sure to capture the attention of the queen and spiral me into the royal circle of friends."

Lucy was too busy burrowing through her vast supply of high-society gowns and admiring herself in the mirror to care about Gage's welfare. She spoke as though he were not in the room, even though he sat propped on the edge of the bed twirling his thumbs and trying his best to ignore the pain his mother's words caused him.

Fanny O'Myles, the head housekeeper in Alastair's modern town home, sighed loudly, swallowed the sour remark that was about to leave her mouth, and rolled her eyes. She had witnessed the lack of motherly instincts within Lucy and wondered why the woman had even bothered to have a child; not that it was any of her business.

"Madam, it would be me honor to watch the wee lad." Fanny's Irish brogue had not softened very much in the years she had been in England.

Lucy gritted her teeth and spun around with a ferocious narrowing of her eyes; she ignored Fanny's offer; not liking the way the woman coddled the boy.

"We have been at this for months...I cannot believe that Alastair has not hired a nanny by now." Lucy threw back her wealth of blond hair and studied her reflection lovingly. "Surely, he does not expect me to watch after the little brat."

Lucy pinched her cheeks to add color and flamboyantly sprayed perfume all over her upper body, paying close attention to her overflowing bosom.

"I hate dragging the bothersome whelp from place to place with us…Alastair and I have so little time together as it is."

Fanny cringed at the use of such derogatory terms in front of the boy. She looked at him with pity shining her aged brown eyes, feeling sorry for him in so many ways.

"Master Alastair has no desire for children in the house, Madam - or in his life; I do no' foresee there bein' a nanny in the future."

Lucy stood up and walked with deceptive calmness to where Fanny lingered in the doorway. She purposefully pulled herself to her full height, an unimpressive five feet, two inches, and stood nose to nose with the other woman.

"If he wants this..." she pointed to herself, "...then he will do whatever it takes to ensure that I have all that I need."

Fanny could not understand where Alastair had gone so wrong. His father would never have approved of his life; or the way he used people to achieve his goals. She had been a loyal servant of the Goswick family for over thirty years and she had watched Alastair grow up and slowly turn into a cold, calculated monster.

Burgess Goswick had been an honorable and upstanding man and one of the finest lawyers in all of England; in that aspect, Alastair was just like his father. However, Burgess had managed to maintain his honor and serve his clients with dignity and fairness; whereas, Alastair did not seem to possess such traits.

Gage sat quietly, taking in all that he heard and saw. He hated it here - there was never anything to do and no one played with him. However, he would never make the mistake of crying or saying how much he missed his papa, not again. The last time he had done that, Lucy had gone into a fit of rage about his disrespect of her and his smart mouth. he did not understand why his papa made him come here - it made him feel so sad.

The only one who showed him any concern at all was the kind housekeeper, Fanny. She made sure he had cookies when he came over and even talked to him most of the time. He smiled at her now, knowing that she was having a hard time with Lucy.

As though he had heard a silent cue, Alastair pranced into the room with a roguish grin on his boyish face. He totally ignored Gage and went immediately to Lucy.

"Hello Darling, I do hope you are about ready for tonight, we must be leaving soon."

He leaned over and brushed an absent kiss upon her cheek, and she frown prettily when he pulled away.

"No comment on my new dress?" She pouted, prancing and twirling in front of him.

He had the decency to look completely shamed.

"Of course, my dear; as always, you are radiant."

She smiled brightly, looking like an angel with her fanciful lace gown in light lavender with a diving neckline and matching fan. She batted her eyes, knowing there were few men in society that could resist her beauty.

She traced the buttons on his coat and gave him the perfect mixture of demure innocence and ravishing temptress.

"Alastair, we need to hire a nanny for that boy so that the servants are not neglecting their jobs when he is here...they should not have to watch him..." She purred, sidling up to him. "…and you know that I will not be responsible for him."

After running his finger over the swell of her breasts and playfully leaning in to nibble at her earlobe, Alastair turned toward Gage, noticing his presence for the first time, and his eyes narrowed – giving him a wolfish look.

"Has it been a month already?" Alastair sighed, "It seems we just had him."

Lucy scoffed and looked over at Gage with repressed contempt in her eyes. "It does come around quite quickly, does it not?"

Alastair placed a blazing kiss upon her lips and smiled.

"I will look into it, but for tonight, Fanny will watch him."

Fanny nodded, accepting the charge without question. She looked over at Gage and was surprised to see a small smile upon his face; she realized that she had never seen him smile before - and that tore at her heart strings.

"Come wee laddie, 'tis dinner time and I am sure ye are famished."

Gage took her outstretched hand, trying not to show his eagerness to be anywhere that Lucy and Alastair were; but Fanny could see the deep hurt in his teal eyes.

Alastair watched them leave with loathing in his eyes and once the boy was out of the room, he turned as Lucy spoke.

"How much longer do I have to have that wretched child in my life, Alastair...you promised that it would just be the two of us?" Lucy whined.

Alastair's smirk resembled a snarl as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Patience, my sweet; he is important to us - he will help you become more acceptable to the public after the divorce...you need to appear to be the victim."

Lucy was all too happy to play into Alastair's plan. He was a diabolical strategist, and almost as corrupt as she was. It had been his idea to blackmail Erik with the supposed rape of the "unknown" girl. Somehow, he had found the one person in all the land who had been there that night, had seen the girl coming out of the room, and then saw Erik coming out not long afterward. It was obvious they had shared an intimate moment, but the details were sketchy. No one knew who the mysterious woman was and no one had seen her since that night; so it was easy to create a fictional situation and provide the necessary details - and a man's reputation and character could be easily destroyed.

"What about my mother, Ally...you know she is going to get in the way?"

Alastair was not surprised by the question; in fact, his eyes darkened and a sinister smile spread across what could have been a handsome face - except for the mark of evil that tainted it.

"If she does not learn where her place is, my pet...she will be put there by whatever means possible."

Her sniveling snicker would have made any other man cringe at its malevolence; but Alastair understood Lucy and she understood him. The couple clasped hands and walked down the hallway toward the door, preparing to leave for the evening.

Fanny emerged from one of the back rooms; surprising them with her quiet movements – considering her wide girth.

"Madam, would ye be wishin' fir the laddie to be awake when ye get home so that ye may bid him goodnight?"

Lucy looked at Fanny as though she had suddenly sprouted two heads.

"I wish for no such thing...put him to bed and be sure that he is sound asleep before I get home."

With a toss of her golden curls and no thoughts of Gage, she swept her arm through the crook of Alastair's elbow and laughed brightly as their night began.

Fanny nodded her head in shame and shuffled her large frame back toward the kitchen to retrieve her small charge. She was so intent on her task that she missed the small, tear-streaked face that stood at the corner, covered by the shadows.

Gage ran past her and up the stairs toward the small, sparsely decorate and rather lifeless hole in the wall they called his room. When he came to visit, Lucy and Alastair tucked him away in a neat little fashion, hoping he would go unnoticed. Fanny was his only friend and he did not wish to be a burden to her any more than he already was.

Fanny trudged up the stairs after him, fearing that he was distraught over something that he had heard. She berated her ignorance in thinking that he would stay in the kitchen after she had told him to, he was just too curious to stay confined to one place for too long.

She knocked on the door quietly, opening it as she did so. Gage sat in the middle of the floor with his knees drawn up and his head rested against them. She knew he was crying - the only sign being the slight tremble in his tiny shoulders.

She nestled her bulky frame and skirts down on the floor to sit beside him; she scooped his small, fragile form into her large lap and rocked him as she had her own children many years ago.

"Ah, laddie...da no' let 'em git the best o' ye...they are the two most selfish people I 'ave ever had the misfortune of knowin'..." Fanny pressed a motherly kiss against his brow, relishing the clean scent of his hair and the way he settled against her in trust. "...I promised ye papa many months ago, that I would take care of ye while ye were here and I intend to keep me word."

Gage sniffled quietly while she rocked him gently; it only took a few moments for him to drift into a sound sleep.

Fanny got to her feet without waking him and removed his shoes from his feet. She pulled off his jacket and shirt, leaving him in his pants and undershirt. She tucked him under the sheets and kissed his forehead, hoping he had pleasant dreams...somehow.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

I had a feeling that last chapter was not going to be very popular, sorry. It was a necessary evil.

Thank you to everyone for the reviews. I will make an effort to personally answer the reviews soon...I appreciate them so much.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 9 – Just Another Day in Paradise

"Oh for heaven's sake; stop dawdling and get it done before we all die of old age!"

The frustration and impatience in Anne's tone was not unusual, but she seldom allowed them to surface. She rolled her eyes often and mumbled beneath her breath, making her words hard to understand. The fact that her current frustration was centered on her husband made it even more hysterical for those who watched.

Wesley had yet to determine how it was that he was chosen to pull the large, heavy drapes from the windows and drag them to the outside portico to be beaten profusely and hung out to air; he had gone over it many times in his head and could not remember actually volunteering for such a tiresome task.

Anne stared at him with her hands on her hips, her hair looping down into her eyes, and what may have been a smile upon her lips...although Wesley had the distinct impression it was not a smile.

"Wesley, you are my husband and I love you very much - and although I have never considered divorce in the thirty years that we have been married, murder is looking more and more like a viable option."

Wesley wiggled his eyebrows and blew her a kiss, before turning toward the window and continuing his job.

Christine watched their antics from the hallway, laughing at the easy way they joked and played with each other. She found soft tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and she dreamed of such a relationship for her own marriage. She had never seen married people that actually loved each other; in fact, she had not been around married people at all. She hoped and prayed that her father had such a blessed relationship with her mother before she died.

She laughed uncontrollably as the blanket of heavy drapes floated from the ceiling and landed on Wesley's head, covering him completely in brown velvet. It did not take him long to burrow out from beneath it and chase his wife around the room in response to her raucous laughter.

"You knew that would happen...you evil woman..." Wesley stated as he ran like wildfire after his giggling wife, "...you are having entirely too much fun at my expense!"

There was a great deal of playing going on throughout the afternoon, but by sundown all of the curtains had been pulled down and were airing out, the floors had been stripped and were ready to be shined, and the furniture had been polished to a resonating glow.

Dinner came and went for Christine; she had eaten her last few meals in the servants kitchen, enjoying the lighthearted bartering they shared. She could not help the fact that her mind wandered to the man upstairs who refused to be a part of his own family...to the point of causing himself such distress.

She forced herself not think about it as she made her way to bed that night; her body was exhausted, but she was pleased with the headway they had made. There was no primping before bedtime, not this night. She ached in places she had not known she had and once she hit the pillow, she was out.

►▼◄

_Was there ever going to be peace in his house again?_

Erik sat stewing in the bathtub, mulling over his lost independence and the infuriating presence of a woman he found unbelievably forthright and obtrusive.

**_You like it that way, admit it._**

Erik's inner demon was teasing him again; trying to convince him that he liked strong, intelligent women who knew what they wanted out of life and were painfully loyal and committed to their task; but those qualities were obvious in Lucy, and he was sure he despised them.

_I do not like it that way…I want nothing to do with her, or any other woman; they are nothing but beautiful pieces of cherished treasure that you put on a shelf and guard with your life…but heaven forbid you touch them.._

She had been here a total of three days and Erik had only ventured out a few times. He knew there was a woman in the house, he could hear the lilt of her voice wafting down the halls and barging into his room; he could smell her scent on the air…the distinct scent of lavender and vanilla…and sometimes apples and strawberries.

There had been more activity since she arrived than he had heard in a very long time. The house seemed blithe with servants jostling about as if they were actually doing their jobs, and muffled voices in the rooms beneath him discussing what needed doing.

_What has gotten into everyone?_ Erik asked himself.

Brushing his interest aside, he tried to return to scrubbing his skin clean in his bath; but he heard her voice push its way through his mind once again and he shook his head in frustration – not liking the sway she seemed to hold over him.

He tried to picture her in his mind after hearing her voice; but he only succeeded in frustrating himself to the point of screaming; what did it matter what she looked like, she was not there to appease him, she was there for Gage…he was the important one. He pulled himself out of the tub and ran the towel over his body, finally drying the long, heavy strands of his hair.

He flung it back and tied it loosely with a piece of leather strapping. It hung to the middle of his back, it always had, but he was considering having it cut to a fashionably shorter length, he just had not decided yet.

As if to mock him, he stomach churned in hunger – the banana and apple having had little effect on his raging appetite - so Erik threw on a pair of breeches and gingerly made his way out the door. It was well after midnight and the house was quiet and somber.

He hated the fact that he was alienated in his own house…staying away from the staff and hiding in the shadows most of the time. Little had changed since his childhood; the rooms were arranged in the same manner and all the furniture remained the same, he had only had to reacquaint himself with the layout of each room; not much of a challenge.

He glided confidently down the stairs, and quietly made his way down toward the kitchen. He was careful not to turn over the attaché table that sat directly to the left of the stairs, and continued down the hall to the second large door on the left.

She watched him from beneath long, thick lashes; lifting her eyes from the book in which she was engrossed. It was rather dark, with only the light of the moon lazily dropping over the floor and casting shadows in various places. She had been unable to sleep after a while, her mind full of so much noise.

He was unaware of her presence and that made it very easy to admire the man from every possible angle. She quickly removed her slippers, grasped the candle by which she read – preferring its soft glow to that of the very modern gas lighting throughout the manor - and followed him.

He was very tall, well formed, and moved like a prowling jungle cat through the thick darkness of the house. Without the aid of more light, she was having a hard time seeing anything more than his shadowed figure moving through the dark.

He made his way into the kitchen, found the icebox, felt his way around, and whispered curses as various items toppled out and onto the floor – echoing off the hard surface with no regard for those who were sleeping and leaving a mess that would no doubt be a witness to his nocturnal invasion.

Christine stifled a few giggles, but eventually knew she could not wait around for him to make a bigger mess. She had lit the lamps in the kitchen, knowing that he could not tell the difference, and after watching him, she cleared her throat.

"I thought we were being burglarized or a large animal had found its way into the house."

He stood up straight, hoping she would go away, but knowing she would not. He turned slowly toward her voice and hid his right cheek from her, giving her an unhindered view of the sensual curve of his unmarred jaw line, the long dark lashes that covered eyes she had yet to see, and the angled cords of his neck…odd, but she had never considered a man's neck attractive until this very moment.

The added light allowed her eyes to drink in the view. He wore no shirt, and the sight of his artfully sculptured chest and stomach made her core heat to the boiling point. He had a trim waist that appeared to form a "V" as her eyes dropped downward – she found that quite enticing. Although the pants he wore were somewhat loose, there was no mistaking the distinct power of his thighs and the strength of his calves…he was a physically perfect specimen; and right now, he was seething.

"Do you always make it a habit of invading the icebox at two in the morning?" she asked innocently.

Erik's eyes bolted in the direction of her voice and for a moment he forgot his hideous visage; he was incensed from the audacity she had to question his behavior in his own house.

"Yes…and this is my house and my kitchen, I am not invading anything." His tone was nowhere close to being cordial.

"If you are hungry, Commodore, you should have joined us for dinner…it would have been delightful to have you."

He did not care for the amused undertone in her voice…she was laughing at him and he could not stand it. His eyes danced with repressed fury and Christine thought she could see the flames lighting their teal depths.

"I do not share my meals with anyone, if you must know; it is not a pretty sight to watch a blind man stumble through his plate as though drunk, making a mess of himself and every thing around him."

He did not hear her laughing, but he was certain she was.

She hated the tone he used when talking about himself or anything he did. She really had no energy to fight him tonight, not on something that had obviously been a part himself for years.

"If you would allow me to work with your staff, and educate them on ways to prepare your meals so that you can know what is placed where...meal time could be a rewarding experience for you…and Gage."

It was so tempting, really it was. She sounded sincere and eager...but Erik knew there had to be some ulterior motive behind her willingness to help him. His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin as though preparing for an attack.

"Miss Darcy…" he stated, almost at a whisper, "…you have been hired on as my son's nanny, not that I had much choice in the matter, but I will find a way to have you dismissed – or you will grow weary of your service and just quit."

Christine almost laughed at the acerbic tone in his voice, she settled for a grin – feeling she had already riled his anger enough for one evening.

"You are correct, Commodore, you have little choice in the matter….can we make the best of it and agree to be friends?"

Erik tried not to laugh, thinking it quite amusing that she would want to be his friend. Women…he would never understand them.

"I have no desire to be your friend, Miss Darcy…do your job and get out…" he growled, "...the sooner, the better."

Christine smirked, enjoying the challenge he posed. He really was adorable when he was being forceful and demanding – despite what he thought. She knew his history – just about every sordid detail of it; she could bide her time until he needed her.

She raked her eyes over his approaching form and visibly trembled as he stood directly in front of her. He lowered his gilded gaze to her, unaware that he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Then you must let me, Commodore…" she stated, pausing momentarily – hoping the tremor in her voice did not give away his affect on her, "…do my job that is."

Erik could not fathom her determination – it was beyond anything he had ever seen – an entity unto itself. He could hear the fear in her voice, and yet she remained. He was doing all that he could think to do that would run her off, but she never took the frank and offensive things he said seriously. He could feel the walls closing in around him and he suddenly had to get away from her.

"You may stay as long as you wish; however, stay out of my way, little girl, I bite."

He was a magnificent sight, standing there all brooding and forceful; but the one thing he did not do was frighten her. She closed her eyes as his magnificent male scent filled her with a strange sensation she had only felt once before…long ago.

"Christine." She whispered to his passing form.

He heard her as clearly as if she had spoken at the top of her lungs. He turned his head, allowing her to see the mutilated evidence of his wretched humiliation; but her eyes only skirted over it – not finding it at all repulsive – and locked with his tempestuous, insecure and unseeing gaze.

"Excuse me?" He asked, staring down at her.

"My name…it is Christine…I just wanted to make sure you remembered."

A sardonic smirk lifted the corner of his delicious mouth; but he suddenly felt too close to her. The subtle scent of lavender and vanilla filled his senses and made his body awaken. So he did what any man would do in that situation…he avoided it.

"Good night, Miss Darcy."

"I thought you were hungry?" She asked as he moved away from her.

"I seem to have lost my appetite."

Christine frowned as he walked away…did he find her so repulsive that he could not bare to be near her? It hurt to think that he did. She somberly blew out the light and silently went to bed.

◄▼►

Wretched woman; Erik could feel his sanity slipping away from him and she had not even been there a week!

One would think that venturing out of one's room during the wee hours of the morning would afford one some privacy…but apparently that was too much to ask.

He did not know what bothered him most; the fact that his treacherous body roared to life when she was near him, or the fact that Gage had become so enthralled with her so quickly that it made his head spin.

If Erik was being honest with himself, he had never really been with a woman in the traditional sense. The time that he had been with Lucy had been more a lesson in frustration rather than the actual act of having sex. She did not respond in any way; choosing to lie there as if dead, and he had not even found his own release…Gage's conception had been a complete surprise.

He sighed overtly, he had resigned himself to being alone and isolated for the rest of his life. In a perfect world, Gage would grow up and lead a life of his own, and Erik would fade into the background of polite, English society – forgotten like yesterday's news. However, the promising surrender of lavender and vanilla now invaded his common sense and made him desire things he had pushed aside years ago. He silently criticized his thinking, knowing that Miss Darcy was nothing more than a gold digger and a tease – with the heart of a killer – just like every woman who had ever been close to him.

_Between my mother and Lucy, it is a wonder I can even tolerate the presence of another woman._

Thoughts of his mother darkened his mood to the point of irrationality and he tried to lie down and rid his mind of her mordant image. Women had done nothing but give him grief all of his life, Miss Darcy was no different – and only time would prove him right.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

This is a day to day story...there will be a few times that I move the story forward a day or two - or even a month or so, but I will let you know when I do this.

Destiny awaits...

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 10 – Things That Go Bump in the Night

It was mid-afternoon of the following day before Erik actually got some food in his stomach. He had declined breakfast with a loud roar, leaving the poor serving girl trembling from head to toe.

His attempt at shaving had been folly from the moment he picked up the razor blade, refusing to admit that he needed help with the most mundane of manly tasks. He could not even fathom why he felt compelled to perform the silly ritual – there was no one there who cared a wit what he looked like – and least of all, himself.

A line of expletives played colorfully across his lips as he cut his neck for the fifth time; he was certain he looked like an ill-used pin-cushion and the image he had in his head made him frown and chuckle at the same time.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his task and he bellowed loudly from the washroom for whomever it was to enter and be quick about it. He turned his attention back to shaving and carefully rounded the slope of his dimpled chin; not that he even remembered it had a dimple.

Anne entered the room with indignant grace, knowing that he was apparently having a difficult time doing something at which he refused to admit defeat. She had just about had enough of his foolish behavior and she was about to tell him so in whatever manner was necessary to get his attention.

"Erik McKinley Worthington."

She heard him curse softly beneath his breath, sigh loudly, and put the razor down on the counter.

Anne stood in the doorway watching him debate with himself whether to answer her or try to pretend that he was not in the room. Despite his ridiculous stubbornness, Anne loved him enough to call him on his behavior.

"You are acting asinine toward her and you know it…" she pointed out, making him close his eyes and turn away from her. "…there have been a few times in your life that I have wanted to turn you over my knee and blister your backside, and your recent behavior has made me think that I should have done just that."

Erik had the good sense not to say a word, but allowed her to chastise him like the child he knew he was acting like. He folded his hands into fists and squeezed until his well-manicured nails were imprinting themselves into his palms. His look was implacable; hard and ruthless.

"I did not want this, Anne; you know why; I am sorry for the way I react to her…I just…" he paused, worrying his bottom lip in thought, "…do not trust her – or any woman for that matter."

Anne wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and assure him that his unease was not necessary.

"You seem to trust me." Anne quietly pointed out.

Erik dropped his chin and his eyes drifted shut, "That is a different matter…" he murmured, "….I do not think of you as a woman, you are...Anne." He stated, lifting his eyes in regret.

Anne took no offense to his words; she knew what he was trying to say. She had been the only positive female presence in his life for many years.

"She is not here to make your life miserable, Erik….if anything, I want her to make your life easier."

Erik had no idea what she met by that, but he was certain that having Miss Darcy in the house was not going to make his life easier. Anne walked up to him and gently touched her forefinger to his cheek – an endearing act she had done since he was a child. She heard his stomach growl and she remembered what her purpose was for being there.

"I brought you some lunch…and you will eat it…every bite, without complaining, or mumbling, or whatever it is you do. There is no discussion on this matter."

Erik felt his mouth curve into a smile, albeit a very small smile, and he chuckled lightly despite his reluctant attitude. He was not convinced about Christine, not by any means; and he was not sure that he would ever be.

He nodded and lifted his eyes, hoping he looked contrite enough to calm her anger.

"How do you put up with me?" He asked, genuinely interested.

Anne chuckled and touched her hand to his marred cheek, hoping he did not pull away from her.

He did not.

"Because you are like a son to me…and you always have been…" She smiled, hoping he could not hear the tears in her voice, "…now, do as I say before I turn you over my knee for real."

He smiled genuinely at that – especially the picture that formed in his mind.

"I will send Wesley up to help you shave."

Before he could protest, she was gone.

►▼◄

_Later that night._..

Christine tossed and turned in her bed; frustrated at not being able to sleep, even with the aches that spread through her body like a disease. She had worked hard these past couple of days and she knew they had accomplished a great deal; but she was thankful that she did not have to work like that every day.

Her muscles throbbed and she longed to sink into the sweet oblivion of sleep. The more she thought about it, the house was just too quiet. She gathered her lacy robe in her hands, not caring that her hair was unbound and fell over her shoulders like a silver shawl.

She had not seen Erik all day – not even a glimpse. Wesley had told her that he had ridden into town in the late afternoon to take care of some business, but there were no details offered and she knew better than to ask. The day had seemed to go quickly, despite his absence and the night had crept up on her without warning.

She quietly slipped from her room, carrying the oil lamp with her. She was headed for the library; perhaps her favorite room in the house, so that she could read herself to sleep.

The soft pads of her feet glided over the cold floor in search of a place to stop. She wandered down the halls of Worthington Manor, stifling the giggle that arose in her throat as she thought about the stories of ghosts that had captivated her as a child.

She felt much like one at this moment – fluttering about without a care in the world – supposedly minding her own business, giving little thought to the world around her. Until she saw a shadow pass across the far reaches of her lamp. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest and a panicked squeal remained bound in her throat, fearing that she would alert the intruder to her presence. She knew that dousing the lamp would alert him to her presence; otherwise he may just think it had been left burning by a negligent servant.

There were no bludgeoning objects readily available, so Christine prayed there would be no need to resort to such things. She crept up to the corner of the door and peeked around the side; fear gripping her throat as she found the shadowed figure with her eyes.

He was moving slowly but with sure steps, apparently trying not to create any noise. She watched him with a pounding heart and baited breath; the moments seeming to creep by as she stepped out to follow him – uncertain why she felt compelled to do so.

She was so wrapped up in the anxiety of the moment that it took a few moments to realize that the silhouetted figure was very familiar to her; the way he walked with an elegant sway and the way he proudly held his shoulders.

_It is the Commodore…but what is he doing wandering around at this time of night?_ Christine questioned to herself, finding it rather strange that she was amazed at his behavior when she was engaged in doing the same thing.

Anne had told her about the headaches and Christine was positive they kept him from getting enough sleep. Anne had said that he often wandered the house at night to walk off the pain or just to think.

Christine stayed a few steps behind him, making sure she did not run into anything on her way. She had no desire to let him know she was following him. He slipped through the dark – at home in its thick blanket – and proceeded to the back of the house and through the portico doors. He had not sensed her presence, not yet, but she was certain he would if she continued to follow him.

She made herself pause at the door and watch as he closed it behind him as quietly as he had opened it. She eased up to the window and watched him for as long as she could, his figure bathed in the moonlight.

He headed toward the woods behind the house…and to whatever – or whomever - awaited him.

Every muscle in her body begged her to follow him and find out where he had gone; but she knew the folly of doing such a rash thing. No one would know where she had gone and Erik would not know where she was…who knew how long it would take them to find her should something go wrong.

She refused to worry about him…he was a grown man after all. She watched as he disappeared from her sight and allowed her curiosity to get the best of her. Was he meeting a lover; going to a clandestine meeting of some secretive group…what was he doing?

She berated herself, almost laughing at the jealous rage that flared within her at the thought of him in another woman's arms. She pulled herself away from the window and continued exploring for another hour…until she could no longer hold her eyes open.

►▼◄

If Erik should have felt foolish for waiting until the house was in a deep slumber before leaving his room, he somehow did not. Night…day….it was all the same to him; the only difference being that he did not have to worry about interruptions or needless explanations at this time of night.

Moving through the manor was no challenge and he had managed it many nights without detection. He could hear Wesley's deafening snores and Anne's gentle, nocturnal whistles – the ones she absolutely refused to acknowledge that she had - and somehow found the consistency of those sounds soothing.

He did not know if Miss Darcy snored, and frankly did not think it would be wise to check in on her. He could have banged his head against the wall for even allowing thoughts of her to creep unimpeded into his mind.

Once he made it to the back portico door and quietly moved through it into the freedom of the night air, Erik felt his mind clear and his problems dissolve.

Erik loved the night; it invited him into its dark domain as though he were born to be its king. He crossed the lawn and eased through the heavy thickness of the trees, carefully counting his steps and assuring himself of his direction.

The small clearing loomed before him, silhouetted by the moonlight - the simple beauty of it lost on Erik. He found the door to the small, dome-roofed building, worked the secret lock that only he knew how to undo, and worshipfully walked into his heaven on earth.

He knew his surroundings as intimately as he knew his own home. The moon glowed through the glass roof, casting a halo on the large, German carved piano that dominated the room and a glimmer touching the violin that leaned beautifully on its stand, awaiting the master's touch.

Years ago, he had found an abandoned place while exploring on one of the rare days that he was able to escape the clutches of his family. It took several more times of exploring to rebuild it using spare building materials he found in the stables.

He spent the next two years organizing and remodeling the shack into this remarkable work of art, making it into a place he could escape the reality of his life and do the one thing he loved most in the world – the one thing his father and mother forbade him to do – make music.

He eased onto the bench of his treasured piano – the one he had bought with his first commission check from the Royal Navy. His mother and father never knew it existed, and Erik had never told a living soul. Gage knew he could sing, but that was as far as it went; it was his secret. He had so much music stored in his mind...his own and that of his favorite composers; but he sat silently, just enjoying the peace he felt within himself.

He finally placed his hands on the keys and let them play. He became one with the music - forgetting all but the melodies that soared through his soul. The music allowed him freedom that he could not find anywhere else...freedom from judgment and freedom from prejudice.

Music was his lover; his passion. She held him within her sensual grasp and would never let him go; she fed his vivid imagination with all the colors in the world – never allowing him to forget their brilliance or their beauty. Every sunset and sunrise he had witnessed, every thunderstorm he had watched approach with rolling clouds that looked like ancient scrolls and the rainbows that painted the skies; all of these things came to life in the melody of a song.

Before he knew it, it was four in the morning and he knew he had to get back to the manor before Wesley arose to start his day. It was not that he felt they would not appreciate the music, but his parents had made his desire to be a musician and composer into a source of conflict, humiliation, and pain. He would protect that desire with all that he had in him.

When he finally settled back down into his bed, his thoughts went dark once more.

Three days.

Every month they came and every month Erik nearly went mad with worry and regret. Lucy was no mother to Gage – even under the best of circumstances – but he was certain that Alastair had no fatherly instincts as well; together, those two facts only served to make Erik physically sick to his stomach.

His only peace in the situation came from Fanny, the housekeeper. She had befriended him when he and Lucy were in the midst of the divorce and she had come along to tend to Gage during the most intense moments. Erik enjoyed listening to her Irish lilt and she made him smile; something he rarely did. She had made him a promise - a promise always to watch out for Gage when he was with Lucy.

Of course, none of this helped him solve the problem of Christine. He was still recovering from the shock of having her in his house – a woman that wasn't a member of his household staff, at least not in the traditional sense, and whose purpose was – as of yet – undetermined; at least as far as he was concerned.

What was he going to do? Every moment that she spent under his roof meant that she was becoming a member of the family and she had already brought laughter and warmth back into the house just by being in it.

He jammed his eyes shut and pulled the pillow over his head - hoping, that by some miracle, he could cut off his own air supply; but he only succeeded in bringing on a headache. He sighed annoyingly and rolled over onto this side. Finally, around five o'clock in the morning, Erik drifted to sleep; maybe, if he was lucky, he might get a couple of hours of sleep.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Baby steps in the right direction.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 11 – Little Things

The hours waned as the days passed. Erik did all that he could to avoid contact with Christine, short of ordering her to leave. When he did drag himself from his quarters, he stomped around the house like a giant troll, scowling beautifully – if there is such a thing – and making everyone feel genuinely petrified of being in his way.

Christine was none to eager to cross his path, so she busied herself with cleansing the house of unnecessary and unsightly furniture, dishes, collectibles, and anything else that she could find that was gathering dust and not attention.

Even with his nasty attitude and his persistence in being intolerable, Christine could not get him off her mind. His infinitely sad, penetrating eyes, although unable to physically see anything, seemed to sink into her soul and bare her deepest secrets to the open…leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

When Thursday finally arrived, Christine and Erik both met the carriage at the door when Gage returned. It has seemed an eternity since he left and Christine sensed a difference in Erik the minute he heard the carriage door open and his son's tiny feet hit the gravel. It was well past sundown and Erik was not pleased that Lucy did not even bother to accompany her own child back to his home.

Gage leapt into this father's waiting arms and hugged his neck so hard that his little knuckles turned white. Christine looked into Erik's face and saw what she knew to be tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. It struck her that his whole world revolved around Gage; he was his anchor in a world that had turned turbulent and cruel.

Gage seemed slightly sad when he returned and Christine thought to ask him about his stay with Lucy; but he perked up quickly when she told him he could have the day off from his studies.

Friday evening, Christine and Gage went outside and played a game of croquet, a recreational pastime she had recently learned. She was unaware of the effect her giggles were having on the dark, brooding man that remained locked within the prison of his room but frequented the open window.

The evening was exceptionally beautiful with a slight breeze and no sign of rain. Christine wore a simple black nurse's dress with a high collar and very little frill. She looked the prim and proper lady…but her heart beat with a wild frenzy when she looked up to see the dark figure of a man looking down upon her.

He seemed to be listening to everything going on and an almost undetectable smirk rested upon his perfect lips; Christine spoke loud enough for him to hear her.

"Commodore, please come and be with us, Gage would love to have your company."

Erik noticed how she emphasized Gage's need to have him near, but did not mention her needs…something told him that she would be more than happy to leave him out of the afternoons activities; not that he was eager to be near her either.

He stood at the window, feeling the cool of the early evening breeze and listening to the sounds of the passing summer days. Somewhere, just beyond the window, a busy bumblebee was scurrying about doing what she does best, and Erik could hear the distant knock of the woodpecker as he finished the last minute touches on his tree trunk home.

His mind painted the scene for him; including brilliant blue for the sky with cotton colored clouds floating about like a fleet of ghostly sky ships, a vast array of summer flowers in every color imaginable, a playful dog lapping around on the ground as Gage tumbled playfully through the green, soft grass. How he had longed to give his son the childhood he had never had….but all he had were empty dreams, blind ambitions, and a hurt pride.

He was sick of feeling sorry for himself – at least for the day – and made his way downstairs and out the back vestibule door, knowing exactly where to find them. Gage pounced on him as soon as he saw him and Erik felt his heart swell with love for the small child that had captured his love with one beat of his tiny heart.

"Papa!" he exclaimed as he squirmed in Erik's arms, "Will you play with us?"

Erik spun him around in his arms a couple of times and then placed him safely back on the ground. Erik frowned, wondering what would make his son think he could play such a game without the aid of eyesight.

"Papa cannot see to play, Gage…but I will sit down and enjoy the evening while you finish playing."

Christine heard the response and scoffed softly before walking up to him.

"Nonsense Commodore, I will position your stance in the right direction and let you know how many feet the arch is away and you can take your best shot – just like the rest of us do."

Her suggestion had him intrigued, as well as imagining the possibility of spending more time with Gage if they could come up with activities in which he could participate.

"So I am supposed to trust that you will face me in the correct direction." He stated with an arched brow and an ornery smirk.

Christine took the bait and hoped his jovial mood continued.

"You have to trust someone…sometime."

Erik tilted his head to the side, as though weighing her words, and finally nodded. He made the best of it and found it was something he could manage; he was not nearly as good at the game as he had been, but he could practice and hone his skill – who knows, he might even be good at it again.

Christine watched him closely, admiring the way he put aside his pride for the sake of his son. Most men would not admit to being no good at something, but Erik seemed more content with being around Gage than making a good impression…and it made her heart sing.

He seemed perfectly at ease with his surroundings, although she knew he could see none of it. He never stumbled or seemed unsure of his step, and Christine found that captivating. He had an eerie way of landing his eyes directly upon her, and when she caught his eyes upon her, it made her insides curl up into an uncomfortable knot, and her body heat up like a smoldering cauldron of magic potion – sending its warmth to all the temperature sensitive areas of her body.

However, that wonderfully warm, cozy feeling came to an abrupt halt when they were called to dinner and Erik excused himself. Christine watched him somberly climb the stairs to his third floor refuge and disappear behind his large, heavy door.

"Commodore….we need to talk…"

Christine called after him before the door closed, hoping he would come back downstairs. He did not, and she stared after him for a few moments. Something in her stirred; was it anger, frustration, disappointment…she was not even sure at this point. She shook her head at his reclusive actions and turned to see Anne's eyes resting upon her. The older woman held a dismal certainty in her eyes that Christine read very well; this was common behavior.

"Why does he do this…" Christine questioned, "…does he realize how idiotic it is?"

"There are many things you do not understand about the Commodore…" Anne offered, "…things that have shaped him into the man that he is."

"That may be so, Anne…but there are things that I have observed while I have been here; little things that seem to upset him but that he never says anything about…simple things."

Anne looked at Christine with a pulled brow, not certain she understood what she was talking about.

"Elaborate…please."

Christine had not meant to offend in any way, but she felt strongly about what she had observed.

"Why does everyone – including myself – persist in calling him Commodore?"

That had not been what Anne expected. She pulled her shoulders up straight held her chin up high…the answer was easy.

"It is a title of respect…one that he earned in combat and continues to earn to this day."

She challenged Christine to speak ill of the Commodore in any way; everyone in his service would defend him with their dying breath.

"I have no doubt that he does…" Christine agreed, knowing how he had earned the title, "…but he despises it."

Anne's eyes narrowed and a look of astonishment crept into their warm depths.

"I do not understand."

Christine turned and headed down the hall toward the dining hall to eat dinner with Gage. Anne followed, intrigued by Christine's observation.

"Have you ever watched his eyes when someone calls him 'Commodore'?"

She had not, and it surprised her to learn that Christine had. Anne turned that information around in her mind and a small, propitious smile formed upon her thin lips.

"No…I have not."

Christine stopped for a moment and gently grasped Anne's forearm to emphasize her concern.

"I have…and he loathes it." She whispered, "Somewhere deep inside himself, he feels ashamed for having the title and it bothers him that everyone calls him by it."

Anne silently chastised herself for having never noticed his distress; she loved him like a son and yet she had not seen this.

"Why is he so fearful of eating a meal in front of us?"

Anne shook her head, "He is not fearful…just uncomfortable."

Christine did not speak, but Anne knew she needed more information.

"Lucy…it is that simple." Anne answered, "She openly and cruelly belittled him in front of many people because he was unable to eat an elaborate meal without dropping food on himself."

Anne was furious and Christine could see it pouring out of her like steaming liquid out of a cauldron.

"Mind you, this was days after he came home from the hospital…only days after he opened his eyes and found himself blind."

Christine heard a roaring in her ears and realized it was her inner voice, screaming outrageously for the injustice that had been served upon this brilliant and courageous man by a woman that should have thanked the Lord above that a man of Erik's caliber had even deemed her worthy of his attention.

"Erik holds much bitterness within himself…a dark, ugly stain that grips him mercilessly, Miss Darcy. He has little faith in himself as a husband or a father…but even less faith in himself as a man."

Anne gently touched her hand to Christine's shoulder and spoke softly.

"We will do our best to call him Mr. Worthington from now on…if you think it will help."

Christine smiled and started back toward the dining hall.

"Yes, I think it will."

►▼◄

It had been two days and Erik had spent them in his room, riding out the pain in his head. He finally emerged, looking rather spent, but ready to conquer the issues she wished to discuss.

Christine had wondered if he had even heard her plea before he shut the world out; and knowing that he had, made her less perturbed toward him – that, and the strain she saw on his features.

However, she found that she had the gift of angering him; she did not mean to…but she really enjoyed watching him pace the floor like a caged panther…every chiseled muscle in his sculpted body alert with tension and barely contained rage.

They were discussing Gage and his lack of interest in being around Lucy or having anything to do with her at all.

"He does not wish to keep going with her; she completely ignores him and he feels out of place." Christine insisted, "He came home with the sure sign of tears on his face, Mr. Worthington…he was not happy."

Erik crossed his arms over his chest, lifted his hand, and rubbed the firm curve of his jaw. He knew that Gage hated going with Lucy, but there was little that he could do. As long as Alastair threatened to go public with the rape allegations, there was a chance he could take Gage away from him for good…Erik would not do anything to disturb the delicate balance of things.

"Miss Darcy…I do not wish to be rude…but this is none of your business." Erik stated softly, his voice a kiss of sensual velvet over her skin. "There are extenuating circumstances of which you are not aware…believe me, if there were anything I could do to put an end to it, I would."

His voice was steady, at a controlled roar…one spark and he would blow up like dynamite.

"Then enlighten me, sir, I am most curious about what would cause a man such yourself to bow to the demands of anyone…especially someone like Lucy."

When he looked at her, she could almost believe he could see her; she could pretend that he saw past her odd coloring and gigantic form to the woman hidden within; the woman that longed for acceptance and love.

"I think not…considering that you may cut your losses and leave tomorrow, I see no reason to enlighten you."

Christine scoffed at his high-handed remark.

"Mr. Worthington, like it or not, I am here for quite some time, even if I work for nothing and sleep on the hammock in Gage's room…I am going nowhere."

Erik drew his head up in surprise and the dark wing of his brows formed a bridge over his aristocratic nose.

"He means that much to you…after such a short time?"

She heard the question in his voice and wondered why he doubted her devotion…if only he knew.

"Yes, he does..." _…and so do you_.

He pulled those fathomless, sightless eyes away from her and ran a long-fingered hand through his unruly hair. It was getting harder to be around her without noticing her enticing Lavender scent and being enraptured by the soft, melodious sound of her voice. She had as natural huskiness in her voice that made Erik's body tighten in response; he despised himself for it.

Christine could not ignore the struggle that seemed to be going through him. He always appeared to be silently berating himself about something and it bothered her immensely. He slowly moved past her, brushing his strong arms against her as he passed. She reached up and touched him gently, causing him to pause and stiffen slightly.

"I have one more issue to discuss before you disappear behind closed doors."

He was so close that she could see the dimple in his chin beneath the dark one-day growth of whiskers. He smelled like expensive liquor, leather, and a blending of earthy scents that had her stomach twisting in knots. His dark hair hung around his face, framing it like a lovers caress and drawing attention to his cerulean eyes that held more wisdom and anguish than a man his age should even know.

Of its own accord, her hand rested upon the hard, heated surface of his chest, right above his steady heartbeat. Erik burned where she touched him and despite his minds insistence otherwise….his heart knew it felt right. He hardly noticed the slow lifting of his lips on one side – providing a roguish smirk that almost caused Christine's knees to buckle.

"I will have you know, Miss Darcy…" he stated, teasingly, "…I am not going to barricade myself behind closed doors today…we are going to have a visitor in an hour or so and she will need my instructions to carry out her task."

Christine frowned, wondering what he was talking about. She was not aware of anyone coming to the manor – not that she would be.

He did not wait for a response, but continued to leave the room. She caught up to him as she realized she had been standing with her mouth agape.

"May I ask who is coming?" She feared he was going to say Lucy.

He simply stopped abruptly, causing her to slam straight into his back with a thump. She gasped and stepped back as he turned toward her. He had a strange look of longing on his face as she looked up at him.

"Anne will not allow me a good nights rest until you have some proper summer clothing and whatever else she deems that you need."

"But….

"No protests, Miss Darcy…if you insist upon staying in this position, you will dress appropriately."

"But sir…I have not saved any money for such things…"

She would have said more, but Erik's dark, empty gaze caught her attention.

"Consider it an advance, Miss Darcy; we will work out the details at a later date." He stated without room for discussion, "Mrs. Chan will be here soon for the fittings, pattern and material choices, and other things that go along with this sort of thing."

He needed to do this for her…he felt compelled to do it. Anne had not said a word to him, but he had heard the servants – including Anne - discussing Christine's heavy, and worn out clothing and the misery they felt certain she was experiencing because of the heat. He knew she would not accept them if he gave them to her as a gift, so he offered to advance them to her...with no intentions of asking for any money. He needed her to know that he was not a complete waste of skin.

Tears floated in her eyes and a single one glided down her creamy cheek. No one had ever offered to buy her clothes before…no one. Even Dr. Hanson had never felt inclined to clothe her in any manner. Christine had always made her clothes with whatever scraps of material she could find lying around.

He gave a nod of his head as though closing the subject and again, began to walk away. Christine searched her mind desperately for something to say – anything to keep him next to her.

"Would you like to go for a walk, Mr. Worthington?"

She had noticed the longing cross his face and settle in his eyes, and she wanted to make him realize that his life did not have to end simply because he had lost his sight.

He turned to her, wondering why she teased him with such a gift.

"Are you offering to walk with me, Miss Darcy?"

"I am."

His lips lifted slightly at one corner, looking more pleased and younger than she had seen him look in a long time – he completely enthralled her.

"How could I turn such an offer down?"

_How indeed_, Christine thought. Her heart was soaring from the chance to be with him on a more intimate level. He had mysteriously accepted her offer and she was stunned by it…but she would never allow him to know how much she longed to be near him.

They made their way through the manor; toward the back of the house, with Erik leading the way with a confidence that never ceased to amaze her.

"I will try to behave myself, Miss Darcy…but they do not allow me out very much."

He winked and flashed a wickedly suggestive smile as he held the door open. He found himself enjoying not being a grump all the time; Anne had called him on it once, he was not going to be chastised again.

Christine giggled, wondering where this delightful man had come from…he was not only devastatingly handsome, but his wit and humor had her captivated.

"I am not worried about that, Mr. Worthington…I would hardly be considered a temptation."

He frowned slightly, wondering why she would say such a thing; he did not realize that his words had indicated a frisky intent on his part, although that is not what he had been trying to say. He followed her through the door and on to the lawn.

◄▼►

He had not been out in the full sun for quite some time. He had never even considered having Gage walk with him, thinking the child had far more important things to do than walk his old man around the gardens; but now, this woman offered to give him one of the many things he had been missing so much….freedom.

His senses were drinking up the many wonderful smells of summer; from the various blooming flowers that adorned the garden, to the smell of heather that drifted on the wind from the hills to the far right. Somewhere, hidden in the distance, was the faint smell of lilac…one of Erik's favorites.

The look of joy that rested upon his face made her heart sing. He had entombed himself within the walls of his mansion and only ventured out when instructed to do so by those whom he considered his betters.

"This is the first time I have felt the sun on my skin in quite some time…thank you."

His civility toward her baffled her, but she was not going to make too much of a fuss over it…she wanted him to remain that way. She smiled, even though he could not see it, and giggled slightly.

"So, Mr. Worthington, it seems you are not a vampire after all."

He scoffed with a smirk and arched his brow again – a reaction Christine was coming to rely on when something sparked his interest.

"Is that the latest rumor that has surfaced?" he chuckled. "It is a shame, really…I am sure I would have made a good one."

Christine laughed, making Erik more acutely aware of her as a woman, and not just as a nanny for Gage. He immediately dismissed the thoughts and silently chastised himself.

"You talk as though they exist."

Erik chuckled blithely and Christine could not stop looking at him. He was walking beside her with his hands clasped behind his back and a long, tailored coat over his dove gray suit; he looked like an English nobleman entertaining his lady of choice – in fact, that was how Christine preferred to think of it.

"There are those in the European society that you would have a hard time convincing that vampires do not exist."

"So I have heard…" Christine agreed, "…some seem to be rather obsessed."

Erik smiled and lifted his chin, "Yes, but then we all have our obsessions, do we not?"

Christine wondered what his obsession was; she was still thinking about the other night when she saw him slip away to some unknown, hidden place for some unknown reason. She could not get the idea of a woman out of her head and the thought was making her jealous streak turn full circle and look her in the face.

She changed the subject…quickly.

"It is refreshing to watch how you are with Gage…I have never been around a man who was so devoted to his child."

The look of love that danced in his eyes was enough to assure Christine that Erik was devoted entirely to the needs and desires of his son.

"He has been the one true joy in my life…not the royal recognitions and accolades; not the false friendship and fake smiles...just him."

They sat down on a swing and began to rock back and forth in a lazy manner. Christine watched a butterfly flutter about them, landing gently on Erik's thigh. He apparently did not feel the delicate insect, but Christine wanted to share the moment with him.

"There is a beautiful, blue butterfly on your thigh…its wings moving majestically up and down as though preparing for flight."

He seemed to concentrate for a few moments and then placed his hand right next to the creature, moving closer so that it crawled up onto this articulate hand.

Never in his life had anyone taken the time to enjoy the little things with him. His mother had disowned him after his father had been lost to them and Lucy had shared one supposedly intimate moment with him, and nothing more.

"Oh Erik…it is so beautiful!"

Her use of his name ran over him like a gentle mountain stream. He could not understand why it pleased him so; she did not even seem to realize that she had used it.

"Could you feel it on you?"

He smiled and nodded, finding it delightful that she found his ability to feel the butterfly amazing.

_I wonder what she would think if I confessed that I can feel the warmth of her laughter and the sweetness of her smile as if they are a part of me._

His thoughts troubled him…he knew he had no right to feel the way he did and it began to terrify him. He had no room for silly notions in his life…especially notions about a woman.

"My other senses have enhanced to compensate for my lack of sight…it is really interesting."

Christine had heard of such things, but had never actually witnessed it. She wondered how much of what went on the manor really escaped his notice – not much, she was certain.

They stopped the swing and circled back around to head back into the house. Erik seemed hesitant to go back inside and sat down in one of the wicker chairs that decorated the open veranda.

"Could we just sit on the veranda for a little while?"

Christine agreed and they sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to all the sounds around them. Christine closed her eyes, hoping to get some insight into Erik's world. The longer she kept them closed, the more sounds she could hear.

"Have the doctors given any hope to your sight being restored?"

If Erik did not allow his heart to get in the way, his head was telling him that she was a good listener and seemed genuinely interested in his life; but once his suspicious heart got involved, he frowned at the weakness that had crept into him.

She hoped that her question did not offend him, she was just curious. He seemed not to hear her at first, but he lifted his head and smiled sadly.

"Not really….there is little information available to work with. I had a severe head injury that seemed to have caused it, so they are not sure how much internal damage was done. I do not know which is worse, the loss of my eyesight, or the knowledge that I have a monstrous face."

He had barely finished speaking, when Gage bounded through the door and jumped into his lap, having just finished his studies.

"Papa…you came outside in the daytime!"

He was elated and Erik laughed at his son's antics.

"Yes…Miss Darcy threatened me if I did not get outside and convince her that I was not a vampire, considering all of my other charming personality traits."

Christine stuck her tongue at him, trying to ignore the bite in his tone, causing Gage to giggle uncontrollably.

"What is she doing…berating me with her eyes, silently cursing me…what?"

Gage continued to laugh, but he answered through the laughs.

"She stuck her tongue out at you!"

Erik gasped and tickled Gage…making the child squirm even more in his lap.

"I did not do it…she did!" Gage insisted through his giggles, pointing at Christine with joy in his eyes.

Erik did not let up, but continued his merciless torture, "True…but you encouraged her by laughing; therefore, you must be punished."

_Is this what it is like to be loved?_ Christine thought, knowing she craved what this family had to give.

►▼◄

Mistress Chan, as she liked to be called, arrived precisely at four in the afternoon; bringing with her an entourage of people carrying different materials, patterns, and accessories that would make any woman envious.

To Christine's absolute amazement, Erik was personally involved in the process; from giving his opinion on the types of materials he felt were appropriate and the styles he was certain would be more comfortable for her to wear that aligned with her position in his household.

"I want her to have all that is necessary for a woman of her position…" Erik stated to the renowned seamstress, "…despite my best efforts she seems determined to stay, so she must have what she needs."

Christine was trying not to listen to what he was saying, but it was rather difficult considering she was standing only five feet away.

"Every instinct I have tells me that she is a young woman, and young women eventually capture the eye of young men – so a couple of nice evening dresses would be appropriate also – and all the necessary things that go with them…" He pointed out without hesitating, "…for courting purposes."

"Is she your ward, Commodore…" Mistress Chan asked, "…I have many nice selections for a ward of such a man as you?"

Erik almost laughed, but then realized it was not an altogether strange assumption, considering what he was doing.

"No, she is not my ward; but she is a member of my household staff and has not been given the proper compensation in the past to allow her to build up her wardrobe…" he sounded defensive, but Christine was certain she was only hearing what she wanted to hear, "…I intend to advance her the means to do so."

He finalized his wishes and with a nod of acceptance, he was gone. All eyes were on him as he walked out; tall and strong with a confidence that belied his self-hatred. She presumed it was the officer in him, but he always had a proud, regal form about him.

Christine stood still long enough to have her measurements taken and then Mistress Chan reached to remove the hat that covered her hair. Before Christine could stop it, her silver hair tumbled down and bounced to the middle of her back. She had gotten so good at bounding it, that no one knew she had a thick head of long, silver hair.

There were audible gasps around the room and Mistress Chan actually scooped a few strands of it up into her hand, feeling its texture between her fingers.

"I know it is horrible…I was born with it." Christine sounded small and forgotten.

Madam Chan smiled and stood back to examine her. She circled her several times, pausing on several occasions to study her.

"This will be enjoyable, I can use colors I have seldom used to make your clothing…you will be stunning." The Mistress stated with a sure tone.

Christine highly doubted that; she was certain there were no circumstances under which she would be stunning.

"Oh, and there will be no courting, so the evening gowns are not necessary."

Mistress Chan frowned and shook her head emphatically, "Mr. Worthington commissions them and I will make them, it is as simple as that."

Passing within hearing distance, Erik overheard Christine's remark and frowned. He found it hard to believe that she was not interested in someone or had someone interested in her. He knew from passing conversations that she was not unattractive; but more than that, she was a smart, witty, hard-working woman that any man would be proud to have beside him.

Erik stopped himself for a moment and considered his train of thought…

_When did I stop thinking of her as a threat?_ He thought curiously. _Oh yes, when Anne said I needed to give her a chance to prove that not all women are out to destroy me._

A few minutes later, he was in his room listening to the carriages roll away with Mrs. Chan and her helpers. He stood there for a few minutes thinking about how nice it felt to bring just a moment of joy to Miss Darcy by buying her the clothes….he realized it was the first time a woman had appreciated anything he had done for her.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for the reviews.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 12 – An Accident Waiting for a Place

It was not that he wanted her company, he just happened to be on the veranda the next morning, enjoying the late summer morning and the sweet smell of the roses as it drifted toward him. Those who noticed him, stared boldly for a few moments, realizing it was a rather odd sight, but they quickly moved on before he somehow realized they were looking at him.

It was not that he knew she would be coming out to drink her morning coffee and prepare for the day; he had no idea what her morning routine was; or at least that is what he told himself as he sat waiting for her to appear. After all, why would he know anything at all about her daily schedule, it was not like she meant anything to him?

Why he could not get her out of his system? The question that completely stunned him. She was no doubt biding her time in this position until something better came along, but she had wrapped herself around Gage's heart and Erik was beginning to think that she cared about his son very much.

Erik supposed that for Gage's sake, he would learn to be more accepting of her and try to develop a more tolerant attitude toward her; even though every part of him knew she would wind up dissecting his heart into tiny, insignificant pieces. However, as long as she did not hurt Gage, Erik was determined to survive.

She finally stepped onto the veranda, smelling more like vanilla this morning. He heard her blowing softly across her hot coffee and Erik wondered what her breath would feel like on his skin. As quickly as the thought roared unhindered into this head, he threw it out with a violent thrust.

"Mr. Worthington, I am glad to see you; I wanted to thank you for the wardrobe. I have never had so many clothes in all my life."

He simply inclined his head and continued to brood.

"I will pay you back…somehow." She promised.

He barely acknowledged her words, but responded firmly, "I will nothing more of such things, we will work it out later."

"Of course; thank you again."

There were a few moments of silence. Christine drank her coffee and ate a small breakfast and Erik his drank his tea and ate an apple. He stood up and started for the gardens, and Christine could not resist the urge to be at his side.

"Would you like for me to walk with you?"

"Of course, if you would like to."

They walked comfortably with her hand guiding him safely by the elbow. He never touched her, but he had begun to relax under her touch and he even seemed to enjoy himself.

They were rounding the garden when Gage joined them. He teased his father and eventually wrestled him to the ground. Erik allowed the boy to pin him to the grass and tickle his sides. Gage was certain he was gaining the advantage.

They tumbled and tickled, and Gage ended up on Erik's back riding him like a pony; a part that Erik played very well.

Christine stifled a laugh when Anne came out and retrieved Gage for breakfast, and Erik had to stand up and brush his clothes off. Anne could not hide the joy that was all over her face when she had noticed Erik and Gage playing and wrestling with each other.

She and Christine looked at Erik's long hair and noticed the blades of grass and wandering flower petals that had lodged themselves within its thickness. By this time, they had reached the veranda and Christine giggled at his appearance.

"Hold still, you have grass hanging down from your forehead and a few pieces dangling from the sides."

She moved closer to him, not thinking about what kind of effect being so close to him would have on her.

Her light touch seemed to surprise him, but she was unprepared for the flame that suddenly roared to life in his eyes. Her fingertips barely skirted over the flesh of his forehead, but she felt herself blush as if she had touched him far more intimately.

She moved from his forehead to his cheek, pulling the grass out and softly skimming the back of her knuckles over his lightly bearded cheek. He pulled his breath in and closed his eyes to the sensation of her touch. How long had it been since a woman other than Anne had touched him with such gentleness in her hand? He longed for it with all that he was, and when he realized that longing resting firmly within him, he growled in frustration.

He pulled away from her as though burned and tried to slow his racing heart; the lust that shot through his body shocked him and the self-hatred he felt showed vividly in his eyes. He knew she must be weaving some enchantment on him.

"I do not know what game you are playing, Miss Darcy; but I will not be a part of it."

Christine felt her own temper flare to a boiling point in a matter of seconds – a common occurrence when she was around Erik. Her reflexes took over and she issued a different sort of touch to his cheek; leaving a red impression of her hand perfectly outlined on his flesh.

"We have been enjoying each others company for a week now, Mr. Worthington; you have been kind and gentlemanly – even bought me clothes. You should know that I am not playing any games nor do I intend to snare you into anything…I AM NOT _HER_."

She turned from him without thought and ran into the house, leaving him staring in the general direction of her exit, with his hand rubbing his sore cheek.

_Let her be mad…what do I care? She will not touch my heart or coax her way into my life with her heavenly voice and sweet smell. I do not need her…or any woman. _He brooded. _Despite what Anne thinks._

Erik marched into the house, unaware of the brocaded ottoman that sat just inside the door. He tripped over it, fell forward into the doors of a curio cabinet, and landed in a sea of shattered glass and splintered wood.

He struggled to get up, and winced at the pain that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. Feeling the cuts on his hands, and knowing he needed to get to his room, he stumbled through the parlor – ignoring the warning signal that flashed in his head - and literally dragged himself up the stairs.

►▼◄

Christine fretted over the slap she had given Erik…a rational reflex to his harsh words, but he was only fighting the war of his heart the only way he knew how…with bitterness and aloofness.

She regretted her actions and after stewing in her own madness for fifteen minutes, she decided to apologize.

She threw open the door only to see Mrs. Roberts running down the hallway toward the washroom and Mr. Roberts tending to something on the stairs.

The whole scene seemed rather odd, so Christine shut her door and headed toward the stairs.

Mrs. Roberts ran up to her from behind, carrying a pitcher of water and a several towels.

"Anne?"

She turned toward Christine, as though seeing her for the first time. Her eyes were filled with tears and panic.

"It is Erik, there has been an accident."

"Papa!"

Gage's scream almost made her heart jump out of her chest and made Anne run toward the stairs.

Christine followed her with a feeling of dread entering her bones. What she saw made her gasp for air, weak in the knees, and rush to offer her help.

Erik was lying face down in a pool of blood. At first glance, the blood appeared to be coming from his hands, but Christine's trained eyes saw no injuries to account for that much blood.

Wesley turned him over without thinking and the piece of glass protruding from his side caught their attention.

He reached to remove it, but Christine stopped him.

"No!" Her tone was authoritative and firm "Do not remove it…not yet."

She knelt beside Erik's pale form and immediately felt a wave of nausea rush over her; he had lost quite a bit of blood already, removing the piece of glass would cause more intense bleeding and Erik would likely not live through it.

"Violet…take Gage to his room and remain with him…he does not need to be here."

The boy protested, but Christine calmed him with a few words before turning back to the Erik.

"Edward!" She called to the footman who had rushed to get some more water, "Ride into town as fast as you can and get the doctor…do not dally!"

"Mary…" she spoke to the housemaid, "…I need you to shred a cotton towel, boil the pieces in the caldron that Horace always has on the stove, and bring them to me in Erik's room…also bring a large, clean fork.

"You two…" she pointed to the other two footman, "…carry him to his room; Wesley, I need you beneath his back supporting it as they carry him, carefully – he must remain straight. Place him gently on the bed."

"Anne, cover the bed with towels to prevent ruining the bed coverings."

Everyone rushed to do as they were told, and Christine turned to the nearest chambermaid.

"Becky…I need a needle and thread, alcohol of any sort, a box of matches, and one of Wesley's cigars."

They rested him on the bed and Christine pushed the hair from his eyes, then carefully wound it into a pony tail and laid it over the pillow and out of the way.

She tenderly caressed his face, fighting back the tears that would fall eventually, but not now. Why had she left him in such a way? How had this happened? He was always so sure of his footing and never faltered.

She began removing his torn clothes, not worrying about propriety or her reputation…none of that mattered.

His chest was cut in several areas, none of them deep or penetrating; there were a few stray shards of glass that cut his forearms, but nothing serious.

The piece of glass protruding from his side was the cause of her concern. What she could see of it was about three inches long, she prayed that the imbedded length of it was not more than an inch…if it was…he may have punctured a vital organ; and there would be little she - or anyone - could do.

She finished with his shirt and started on his pants; her heart pounding frantically. Wesley came back into the room, sensing that he was needed, and Christine relaxed.

"Please…remove his pants and cover him…" She pleaded.

She turned as he did what she asked and then he stood by the door, ready for any other duties she asked of him.

A few moments later, Mary and Becky entered with the strips of linen, a large serving fork, a needle and thread, a bottle of costly Scotch, a cigar, and some matches.

"Wesley, I need some ice…in a large bowl - full…quickly."

Christine cleaned the area thoroughly, and surrounded the wound with the sterile linen, careful not to disturb the piece of glass.

Wesley returned with ice just as she was finishing.

"Bring it here."

She took some ice, wrapped a cloth around it and rubbed the flesh around the wound until she was certain the area was practically frozen.

"Wesley…remove the glass...pull it straight out without hesitating."

He stepped forward hesitantly and lifted irresolute eyes to her.

"The ice should slow the bleeding and make it easier to continue…proceed."

He pulled the shard of glass out in one quick motion. Christine immediately cast more ice on the wound as it started to bleed.

"Alcohol!"

Anne handed her the Scotch and Christine poured it deep into the wound to cleanse it. It seemed the glass had been about an inch and a half in, but Christine felt certain nothing vital had been penetrated. She wiped the surrounding area before moving on, and was pleased that the bleeding had slowed considerably.

However, he had lost a great deal of blood.

"Wesley, light the cigar."

He did so without hesitation and handed it to her. She seared the wound deep within, making sure that it sealed beneath the heat. The smell of burnt flesh almost made her sick, but she concentrated more on keeping Erik out of danger.

After cauterizing the wound, she stitched the flesh, making sure that no tears occurred and the flesh would heal – then she poured more alcohol over it – hoping to prevent infection.

She pulled her worried eyes from Erik's pale form and lifted them to Wesley's concerned features.

"Do we have any idea what happened?" She asked.

His drawn features held steady while he answered.

"It seems an ottoman was out of place and he tripped over it and fell into the curio cabinet in the parlor…shattering the glass doors, the contents within, and breaking the wood."

Christine balked when he mentioned the ottoman; the very same ottoman upon which she had stubbed her toe as she had hastily walked away from him not even an hour ago; the same ottoman she had reached over and angrily pushed in the opposite direction to vent your frustrations.

_I did this to him…I moved the ottoman out of its normal place and Erik had no idea it was there…I could have killed him._

Hot, shameful, terror-filled tears fell from her eyes as her mind filled with shattered images of Erik's fallen body, and the realization that she had caused his injury.

His labored breathing captured her attention and she ran to his side, moving the strands of dark hair that rested playfully upon his face and chest. The pallid color of his skin was slowly dissipating, and some color had returned to his cheeks.

"Is there anything else that I can do for him?"

Christine lifted tormented eyes as she realized that Wesley still stood by the side of the bed, watching her hand stray over his master's attractive features.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to say anything, and he shot her a respectful bow and left the room.

It was only moments after Wesley left the room that a tiny voice filled the room.

"Will Papa be better soon?"

Gage had taken a tiny step into the room, his security blanket in hand, and worried tears whispering down his cheeks. His beautiful, Erik-like eyes were luminous and forlorn, breaking Christine's heart as she thought about his deep, worshipful love for his father.

She practically ran to him and gathered the tiny boy in her arms, hugging him as if his fragile body was the only antidote to what was causing her ailment.

"Oh Gage…honey…he will be fine, thankfully…" she squeezed harder, "…he just needs a great deal of rest."

She placed him gently on the bed beside Erik's slumbering form, and allowed him to touch his father's hand and feel the warmth that still emanated from him; the tension eased from his small frame and a smile played about his lips.

Wesley knocked gently on the door, announcing that the doctor had finally arrived. A short, medium build, balding man stepped into the room…his features reminding Christine of the pointed, inflexible features of a hawk; with the same bright, intelligent eyes.

"I am Dr. Leonard Pickard, tell me what happened."

Christine relayed the story to the doctor, telling of how they had worked as a team to gain a stable condition for the patient; she was pleased to see a stunned look on the man's pinched face.

"It seems that all was under control before I even knew about the accident."

He did a quick check of Christine's handy work, nodded his head in agreement to her quick thinking medical care, packed his things and was down the stairs to leave in less than twenty minutes.

"If anything comes up that you are concerned about and unable to treat, you will find me at this address; I will come as quickly as I can."

She thanked him and saw him out the door. She turned to find all eyes fixed on her.

"I will be in Erik's room caring for him if any one needs me."

TBC 


	13. Chapter 13

I will put one more chapter up before I leave for Chicago on Thursday. My son graduates from Navy boot camp on Friday and I won't be back until the following Tuesday. I will try to do some more writing when I get back and will try to post a chapter soon thereafter.

Thanks for your faithfulness.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 13 – Casualty of War

For several days, she rarely left his side. She bathed his heated forehead in cool compresses and was sure to suffuse his chest with the same attention, as his fever kept returning with a vengeance.

She had consulted with the doctor again, and he had assured her that all looked quite well with the wounds, and the fever was most likely his body's way of fighting off any foreign substances that were trying to invade his weakened form.

Christine changed his bandages regularly, and kept him clean, knowing that a clean body was in a better position for fighting off infection and other unwanted parasites.

His recovery had been restless so far, with bouts of extreme agitation and panicked mumblings. His speech was garbled and barely above a whisper most of the time; but today was different.

Christine dozed in the chair beside the bed, once again forcing a crick in her neck that would bother her for the entire day. She had shed every tear she could shed and was hollow inside, hoping and praying that Erik would fully recover from this horrible accident and forgive her for her part in it; if she ever found the courage to tell him.

His guttural murmurings roused her from her silent vigilance, causing her look at him with curious eyes. He appeared locked in a painful past…

_"Die..." _his head tossed back and forth and he seemed to be in a state of frustration, "…._should have died..."_

"Erik, wake up…you are dreaming."

She gently placed a hand on him, not wanting to startle him. The last thing he needed was to aggravate his wound or pull the stitching loose.

_"Lucy…" _

Christine stiffened at the other woman's name exiting his lips in what sounded like a seductive plea; but his tone soon slipped into a plea for understanding and a chill of retribution slithered up Christine's spine.

_"…Lucy…why…"_

His cryptic plea brought tears to her eyes and she once again touched her hand to his shoulder in a comforting touch. He did not ease from his musing, but descended into another time…one of a more distant, but no less disturbing pain.

_"…disgrace to your father..." _Christine was certain he would not have wanted her to hear the elusive fragments of his life that he was revealing to her, but she was riveted to his words, _"…be a man for once…"_

To whom was he talking? Christine heard the disappointment in his words – assuming he was mimicking whoever had said these hateful things to him.

_"...no mother!" _ By the sound of his voice, he seemed intent on stopping her from committing some horrible crime, _"My music...my piano…my violin…" _ his voice and body grieved for what Christine assumed was the loss of these beloved items.

Tears rolled down his face as he appealed to his mother's maternal love, but it seemed that his pleas fell on deaf ears. There were dark, unpleasant memories haunting the walls of this manor, and Christine heard the ghosts of those memories in his voice.

She looked away from him to ease her pounding heart and spent nerves. Her muscles ached from little movement and even less sleep; so she moved around his room, amazed by the masculine beauty of her surroundings.

The artwork was extraordinary and expensive, and Christine could not keep from examining each piece closely. She came upon a small painted picture hanging on the wall. It was of a family - husband, wife, and two boys. It appeared to be twenty years old or more, and hidden in the beauty of the picture was intense pain that cried out to her from a dark shadow in her mind; causing her to back away from it with an incisive gasp.

"Who are they?" She whispered, making a mental point to ask Wesley or Anne about it.

She continued to look closely at the other pictures that adorned the wall. Some were very old, others not; some seemed personal and precious while others were cold and bland.

The room itself was a silent testimony of the man who resided within it. Strong and resolute; dark and mysterious – but with a sensual simplicity lying just beneath the seemingly formal exterior.

He was all these things – and so much more. He despised being coddled, but Christine knew instinctively that he would be a tender, compassionate, thorough, and affectionate lover if he wanted to be. He trusted no one – and especially women; and yet, he had allowed her stay in his home and do what he thought was an intrusive job that would come between him and his son. One word or gesture that undoubtedly indicated that he wanted her gone and she would be…but his heart and soul spoke louder than his words; and she knew he wanted - no, needed to be around a woman that flustered him in many ways.

The idea of being able to cause a man of Erik's considerable strength and strong personality to quiver in any way, made Christine smile despite the severity of his injuries. She glanced over at his resting figure, giving his strong shoulders an admiring sweep with her eyes before continuing her artistic tour of his room.

A sliver of light pierced a crack in the wall that Christine would have never noticed otherwise and she touched her hand to it, only to find that the crack was not a crack at all, but an opening.

A slight push extended the opening and Christine stood in stunned wonder as she gazed upon a bright room with an easel, several pictures of stunning beauty, piles of music from various composers – some that she did not recognize.

The room was a quiet space in the house – a place where a person could come and lose themselves in their dreams. It seemed that Erik had left an entire life behind to become the man he was; making Christine wonder who he was…really?

She approached the easel with uncertain steps, feeling she might be intruding on a secret he did no wish to share; but her curiosity got the better of her and she raised a trembling hand to push aside the material that covered the picture.

It was a woman…tall and voluptuous, dressed in men's clothing, but very much feminine in her stance and the way the head tilted in female arrogance. She could have been a pirate or a thief of some sort; but no matter what she was, Erik seemed entranced by her. She had no distinct features, indicating that he did not know what she looked like, but he had painted long, flowing black tresses falling down at her sides and over her shoulders, a full figure with ample breasts and hips.

Christine gasped and dropped the cloth back down, backing away as though burned. She had the distinct feeling that she was never going to forget that image, and backed out of the room, gently shutting the concealed door behind her. What had that woman been to him...what was she to him still?

◄▼►

He had no desire to open his eyes…what good would it do him. He hurt in places he had forgotten he had and the throbbing in his head was insistent and annoying. He could not remember what day it was or how he had gotten in such a decrepit state; but he would give every ounce of his energy to finding out.

Had it not been for the familiar feel of his bed beneath him and the softness of the pillow upon which his head rested, he would not have known where he was. Constant, constricting pain shot through his head, bringing his wrapped hand to his forehead.

A cool, soothing cloth touched his skin and he almost felt like purring from the pleasure it seemed to bring him. It disappeared, but was back quickly, putting the balm to his cheeks and neck.

He opened his eyes, hoping that it had all been a nightmare and he really could see; but darkness greeted him with the same impassive and impersonal manner that it had for the past three years.

His left hand came up and captured the hand of the angel that tended him; making her inhale quietly while he ran his thumb over the soft surface of her open palm.

"Mr. Worthington…I am so thankful that you have awakened…how do you feel?"

He recognized that voice…the voice that both antagonized him and aroused him…the voice of the woman who had caused upheaval in his home and disrupted his perfectly designed life. Despite the unease she was causing him, he smiled briefly and released her hand - committing to memory the softness of her skin and the elegance of her long fingers.

"As though I was trampled upon by a team of horses and then they circled the block and trampled me again…." He growled with a hint of mirth in his voice, "...thanks for asking."

The pain in his head seemed to amplify with each word he spoke and his eyes slammed shut in a defensive motion.

He felt the soothing cool of the cloth again, amazed at how such a simple thing could bring him even an ounce of relief. However, as quickly as it had been applied, the cool of the cloth was replaced by the surprisingly firm, expert feel of her thumbs against his temples and then the enticing feel of them fanning over his forehead with the same surprising strength.

"Miss Darcy…"

Although he sounded annoyed, Christine could feel the anxious furrow in his brow ease from her touch and the soft moan that he elicited had not escaped her ears.

"…what are you doing?"

His question would have seemed redundant under normal circumstances, but she continued to confound him with her odd behavior and open affection toward him.

"Probably annoying you, but I am trying to ease your pain."

Her tone was light and Erik could hear the teasing lilt in her voice. Little did she know that his body reacted to her simple touch as if she had sensually rubbed her body across his for the sheer purpose of starting a fire. He dreamed about what it would feel like to have her beneath him – he wanted to know if she was curvaceous and lush as he dreamed she would be; or too slender and straight like he remembered Lucy feeling. It was hopeless to think that he could maintain his animal lusts; he was on fire from the inside out.

"I appreciate the gesture, Miss Darcy; really I do….but I would rather you not touch me."

The words were terse, but his tone was husky and low. She sensed that her touch was something he greatly needed and desperately wanted; and a gift she was more than willing to give.

"You have been out for several days, Mr. Worthington; I have been touching you a great deal." Christine teased. "Now, tell me what I can do to help you."

His heart raced and salacious pictures formed in his mind – he did not hear the guilt in her voice. Had it really been that long? Was he so desperate for female companionship that he had thought about groping this woman in a fevered stupor; and now, he was having erotic daydreams about her?

The right side of his prefect mouth lifted in a sensual smirk, frayed with sadness. He brushed off the concern he was certain he did _not_ hear in her voice.

"Just give me some laudanum and I will be just fine…I will rest and demand nothing." He seemingly growled, "It seems my innate clumsiness is starting to break through the surface again…much like it did when I was a child."

His suggestion appalled her, as did his self-appraisal. How long was she going to go on letting him believe he was at fault for his injuries? She covered her guilt with livid concern.

"I will do no such of a thing…I certainly do not need you getting addicted to that concoction." He lifted one sculpted brow and seemed shocked. "A few shots of the Scotch that you love so much and you should be feeling nothing."

He grumbled under his breath, "Are all women heartless and conniving – or just the ones in my life?" He said it loud enough for her to hear and than followed it with, "Fine, bring the whole blasted bottle."

The words were clipped and detached…in the quickest of heartbeats, he was once again hardened and cynical – gone was the flirtatious man she had seen a glimmer of just moments ago.

Christine took his words to heart and felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, "It is not my intention to cause you pain again, Mr. Worthington…laudanum is a serious substance that causes many a good man to fall beneath its powerful sway…I will not allow it to happen to you."

He sat stoically still, willing her away with the power of his mind; but he knew she remained. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs because of how she made his blood boil!

"Your concern is touching, Miss Darcy…truly it is…" his tone was sarcastic and dripping with malice, "….I am sure that beneath that professional façade you seem so intent on hiding behind, you are as repulsed by me as almost every other woman who has known me."

He lifted his chin in an act of defiant fortitude; his beautiful eyes filled with a strange longing that Christine did not recognize.

"Now, scuttle out of here and get the doctor, maybe he will be less inclined to preach to me and more inclined to rid me of my pain."

She did not immediately respond, shocked by the sudden animosity he seemed to be hurling at her.

"I truly despise you at times…" she began, but he snarled an interruption before she could finish.

"…why does that not surprise me…" he spat, pointing in the direction of the door, "...now go!"

He heard her retreating footsteps and knew that she had fled his presence. He frowned deeply, knowing that his words had been truly hurtful…but it was the only way to keep her at a distance.

_I cannot get the scent of her out of my head…she is constantly with me and it is driving the last shred of my sanity away from me._

Erik's head began an incessant pounding again…causing him to feel sick to his stomach; it seemed to add insult to injury with the stabbing pain in his side and hand.

_It is laughable, really_…" Erik thought, feeling the swell of castigating laughter fill his mind. _…I was once the most decorated captain in the Royal Navy and trained to handle every possible combat situation that I encountered. I have taken the pain of my childhood and used it as a weapon to make me a better man…a man my father could be proud of... _he dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes with fervor, _…how is it that I have fallen victim to a faceless woman whose gentle hands, soothing voice, and intoxicating scent render me entirely defenseless? _

The only plausible thing to do was push her away. She would never see past the scars on his face or the defect of his eyes. He was not a whole man anymore, and even when he had been, what woman had there ever been in his life that truly loved him?

No, it was best this way…there would never be a chance with her…or any other woman. He buried his head in hands; it occurred to him at that point that he wanted very much for there to be a chance with her...but she despised him just as he had wanted her to.

_Yes, it is best this way._ He assured himself in silence.

TBC 


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, here it is...I'll "see" you ladies when I get back.

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 14 – Don't Tell Him It's Me

The doctor came and went, not giving Erik his drug of choice, but assuring him that the wounds were healing nicely and there would only be minimal scarring.

It was a shock to Erik's male ego when he learned that he had Christine to thank for the quick medical care that had saved his life; the curious lift of his brow belied the guilt that riddled him. There was obviously more to her than he had been led to believe. How did she know so much about doctoring?

He felt foolish because of how he had acted toward her. If she did have training in nursing, it was instinctual for her to want to care for him. He had treated her as though she was trying to work some sort of magic spell on him; making him desire her with every touch or word, when all she was doing was what came naturally for someone with her apparent training.

Not wanting to admit anything more shattering, Erik accepted that a small part of him had already yielded to her. He yearned for her in ways he had hoped to avoid; after all, he was only human.

Mocking laughter filled his mind and Erik cringed inside. She was just doing her job, as she knew it. Obviously, she had seen the need to take care of him on a patient/nurse basis and she had taken control of the situation…nothing more; and he had run her off with his harsh words.

It had been two days since she had been in to check on him and he refused to admit the obvious.

_I cannot possibly be missing her!_

He scoffed and rolled his eyes in answer to this reluctant admission. He did miss her…terribly. Her quick-witted tongue and her active mind were a constant intrigue to him and although he knew he should not, he could not help but desire her nearness.

_I am a bloody fool…_

He could not allow himself to read more into this than there was. She had nursed him back to health, so what. That did not mean she was eager to get to know him on a personal level or spend time helping him realize that not all women were lecherous and backstabbing.

He brushed it aside as he heard his son's light-hearted and curative giggle alert him to his approach. The tiny boy crawled up onto the bed and curled up in his papa's large arms, resting against his chest.

Gage had been a constant companion in the days since the accident, more so than usual. Erik had spent a great many hours assuring the young boy that he was fine and would be back to his normal jovial self in no time.

Tonight, Erik was finding it enjoyable and peaceful to listen to his son expounding on the days events or on his most enjoyable things; he never lacked having a story to tell.

"Papa, I hear a loud thump in your chest…do you have a drum in there like the ones they play in Africa?"

Tousling his hair, Erik sketched a brilliant smile and laughed – these two apparently rare events seemed to fill Gage's little world with brightness and joy.

"No, Little Warrior, that loud noise is my heart…it has to be loud and strong to keep my body moving."

She heard him laugh, the rare beauty of it filling the manor; and knew it was time to go back to him. He had hurt her with his last outburst of anger and despondency, and she had avoided him – which of course was the adult thing to do. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and worried her bottom lip; he still had no knowledge of her inadvertent involvement in his accident.

She unfolded her tall frame from the sofa upon which she had been reclining, closed her book, and headed up the stairs toward the one man who could simultaneously reduce her to a quivering pool of burning fury and have her trembling with sultry desire.

She peeked into the room, not wanting to disturb the purity of the scene in front of her. Gage leaned against his father's powerful form and Erik's gentle hands were rubbing the child's back while Gage rested his head upon his lap.

"Papa, please sing to me…you have not sung to me in so long and it makes me feel safe."

Erik frowned and Christine could have sworn she saw tears sparkle in his jade eyes.

"I did not think you remembered." Erik murmured, emotion stealing his voice.

Gage lifted his tired eyes and ran them over his father's features, "I know Lucy hated it, but I think your pretty voice makes her uncomfoable….but I love it."

Erik chuckled at his wrong pronunciation, but refused to correct him – and the image of a man such as himself having a "pretty" voice conjured up strange pictures in his head.

Christine withheld the warm sound that wanted to burst forth from her…especially at the sound of Erik's genuine, beautiful chuckle. She watched silently as Erik pulled his young son into his embrace, cradled his head in his arms, and closed his eyes. The voice that filled the room took her breath away.

_"April roses, tiny sparrows…  
comets bright and new…  
all belong together  
with the mystery that is you._

_"When I see your little face  
I hear a song from long ago…  
I think you know  
the many secrets I've forgotten."_

The melody he whispered was like something from heaven – hushed and sacred – like the child he held in his arms.

_"Generations through the ages  
joined as one somehow…  
leading to the miracle  
that I'm holding now._

_"From the sky and from the sea  
upon a breeze you came to me…  
you seem to see  
a greater universe than I do."_

She heard his breath hitch in his throat…there was a deep sorrow in his words and she knew he longed to lay his eyes upon his sons perfect face.

_"Sleep my baby, sleep my baby  
dream of somewhere far away.  
Do you remember still?  
How I hope you always will keep the memory of the day  
the world was born.  
When you wake up I'll be waiting  
eager for your smile."_

There were tears this time; strong, fierce tears that somehow showed him as more of a man in Christine's eyes than anything else he could have done.

_"You've had quite a journey, darling  
you should rest a while  
when you cry I still rejoice  
to hear your voice - oh, yes it's true."_

_"My sweet child  
please understand how much I love you  
sleep my baby, sleep my baby.  
Later on perhaps you'll tell  
the wondrous things you've seen  
more miraculous than dreams._

_Tell me all about the day  
the world was born."_

Christine watched as Erik tenderly ran his fingers along Gage's peaceful features, she could have sworn he saw the innocence that radiated off him. She could not take her eyes from the scene – it was beautiful.

Erik's gripping baritone softly sang the chorus again.

_"Sleep my baby, sleep my baby  
dream of somewhere far away.  
Do you remember still?  
How I hope you always will keep the memory of the day  
the world was born."_

**original word, "we"; original word, "Washu"**

_Washu's Lullaby_

**English lyrics by Lorrain Feather**

**Original Japanese lyrics by Natsuko Karedo**

She would never forget this moment for as long as she lived; she watched as Erik gathered a slumbering Gage into his arms, placed him on the bed beside him, and gently turned him onto his side.

The whole scene melted Christine from the inside out. The man she knew he could be had finally shown himself. There was no shame in admitting that she was hopelessly in love with him – and always would be.

"Thank you for loving me…Little Warrior."

He barely said the words; but Christine heard clearly – as if he had said them while standing right beside her.

Feeling despicable for eaves dropping, Christine wiped the moisture from her face, moved from the door, and tiptoed down the hallway toward her room.

There was something so compelling about a man who was a good father. Christine felt a strange, heated yearning within her womb that had her clutching the folds of her dress.

_As if I needed any other reasons to love him._

His voice still filled her mind and she was certain he had the most mesmerizing baritone she had ever heard. She was more determined than ever to know the man that he kept hidden away – the man who cherished his son like a rare treasure and could sing like an angel from heaven, but whose eyes held secrets of deep, dark, and unknown proportions.

The song was so personal that she was certain he had written it…probably when Gage was born. She wondered if he had ever sung it before, or if this was the first time.

There was no going back for her; she heard his voice and her core wept for his touch; she caught a brief glimpse of his regally dark beauty and her breasts tightened in response; she brushed her hand over his warm, masculine skin and her heart sped up in its readiness for him.

She was a hopeless cause.

Christine prepared to dress for bed, but caught the reflection of her nude body in the floor length mirror that lined her wall.

The long, shapely legs, slightly plush belly, full, rounded hips, plump breasts; long, swan-like neck, silver-blond hair, and violet eyes had all come together to be a source of ridicule and hatred throughout her childhood.

The painful memories of her childhood had forced her from home at the tender age of sixteen and pushed her into servitude. She had managed to secure a position as a chambermaid in the most prestigious doctor's office in town.

Never being one to accept her lot in life, Christine latched onto the man as though he was her father, and he took her under his wing like the child he never had. He taught her many things about healing and medical procedures, and sent her off to become a nurse – before dying from typhoid fever several months after she left.

Christine was thankful for all that he had taught her and for being a friend and father when she had needed one. She had not seen her supposed family for several years…at least not for any significant amount of time. But now, she had Erik and Gage…

_What makes you think he would ever be attracted to you…_

Christine chastised herself and frowned at her reflection before squelching her frivolous desires once again.

_…especially after he finds out who you really are?_

With that thought in mind, Christine pulled her gown over her head and eased herself into the bed…prepared for another sleepless night.

TBC 


	15. Chapter 15

I'm back...I already had this chapter written, so enjoy. It is more of a filler chapter than anything, but it gets us to a critical juncture.

I enjoyed my visit with my son, he looks fantastic and seems to be doing well in the Navy. Thank you for all who wished us traveling grace and for those who prayed for us. God has truly blessed.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 15

The day comes when all things seem to slip back into normal functioning mode and the fears that once had dominated the thoughts of people just simply disappear. That day had arrived for Erik. He was tired of being immobile and had been getting up for a couple of days and walking around the upstairs floor, building his strength and aiding in his recuperation time. He awakened feeling incredibly good – compared to the week that had passed. He carefully stretched his long frame and sat up, eager to have a bath.

His hands had healed enough that he could slip on some gloves and go riding, if he kept it at a gentle cantor. Lancelot was probably tearing his stall down thinking he had been forgotten.

Erik heard a soft knock on the door and was not fully clothed when it began to open. He had only managed to wrap the sheet around himself before he heard a loud gasp.

"Oh my…forgive me…I did not know you were up!"

It was Miss Darcy and Erik could hear the embarrassment flaring in her cheeks; he hoped he had managed to cover most of himself before she actually caught a look at him.

"Perhaps you should try allowing more time between your knock and your entrance."

His composed tone did little to calm the sudden rush of heat that hit her core…she had an overwhelming urge to take advantage of his blindness just this once and take a long, lazy look at the man.

In the end, her conscience won, and she kept her eyes turned away to give him time.

"You are feeling better, I see…up and about." She squeaked.

Erik smirked amusingly, he could tell by the sound of her voice that she was facing away from him, but there were times he could swear he felt her eyes on him.

"Yes…" he stated, sounding completely bored, "…and I would like a bath; do you suppose that you could arrange that for me?"

Again, like a simpleton, she nodded and then caught herself with a roll of her eyes. "Yes, I can do that…I will see to it myself if you like."

The lilt in her voice was a sure sign that she was still riding on her embarrassment, but Erik admired her willingness to remain in the room with him.

"There is no need, there are others who can do that for me…you are a mere wisp of a girl…the water needs to pumped into the chamber to fill the tub."

Christine could not determine if he was being ornery, malicious, or gentlemanly; the "mere wisp of girl" had her riled, but she also knew that he had no idea of her size.

"I am hardly a girl, Mr. Worthington, and I have drawn many a bath for men."

After she said it, she thought about it again and did not like how it sounded. He – of course – took immediate advantage. He had moved to stand behind her, knowing she still faced the wall, and leaned into her.

"Really…how many?" He murmured, suddenly sounding very interested.

She was a nurse…he knew that. When the doctor had examined him the second time, he had stated that he had not been the one to save him…it had been Miss Darcy. There were many unusual things about her…and every one of them fascinated him.

Christine could feel his breath on her neck and longed to turn around and wrap her arms around his neck. He was so close and every inch of him was hard, unapologetic male; she wondered what he would do if she actually acted on the impulse?

Ignoring his question, she moved away from his potent magnetism and spoke as evenly as she could.

"Just give me a minute, Mr. Worthington, and I will be more than happy to fetch you anything that you need to be comfortable…I will get one of the men to pump the water and you can have a bath."

Fetch…did she say fetch? Erik almost laughed at the image that filled his mind; a woman running around frantically; "fetching" his dinner, "fetching" his morning paper, "fetching" his slippers. They were ludicrous thoughts, but Erik could not completely relinquish them.

"Miss Darcy, I assure you that I can _fetch_ anything I need by myself."

"I can manage, Mr. Worthington."

She defied him about everything…and he was just about to loose the last grip he had on his sanity. Why did she feel the need to contradict his decisions or counteract every action he made?

"I am certain that you can, but there is no need for you to, there are others."

"You are without a doubt the most stubborn man I have ever encountered." Christine mumbled, wanting him to have to strain his ears to hear her.

"The same could be said of you, Miss Darcy…except that I am quite certain you are not a man."

She ignored his mumbled words and turned around. He had moved away from her and was standing in front of the window. The sun shone through the window and bathed the surface of his chest, making Christine forget to breathe. She had pointedly ignored his naked flesh, unsure of her ability to remain unaffected. However, she seemed to have lost control of her eyes; they freely roamed over his broad shoulders, fell to what she knew was a lean waist, and imagined everything else that was hidden beneath that ridiculous sheet.

"I can just imagine the sun high in the blue sky with the birds playing on the wind and the flowers boldly portraying their beauty like young debutants at their first ball."

The sincere loneliness in his voice clenched her heart and Christine felt tears forming in her eyes. Despite his brave front and the strength he always seemed to possess, Christine knew he desperately wanted to see again.

"It is a beautiful day, Mr. Worthington…bright, warm – but not too warm; and the clouds are painting the sky so perfectly." she watched him smile at her words. "I remember as a child, lying down on the grass and looking up into the vast sky and picking out different shapes in the clouds…they were often the only friends I had."

She had not meant to sound unhappy or to cause him to feel sorry for her, but he turned toward her with softness in his eyes that told her he somehow understood.

"I did not have any friends growing up either…not after…"

He had not meant to say that much and he turned and walked away, leaving her wondering about his unspoken words.

"After what?"

She could not keep from asking. He stopped and dropped his head, a sure sign that he was not going to answer the question…not yet.

"It does not matter…you do not have to pretend with me, Miss Darcy…I am a hard man to tolerate…" He had lifted his head and tried to put firmness behind his words, but Christine heard the underlying cry for help, "…and I am very much aware of what I look like."

Baffled by his words, and even more distraught over his self-deprecating attitude, she grasped the chance for him to open up to her…share himself in some way.

"What do you think you look like, Mr. Worthington?" She asked, curious about his self-appraisal.

His chin lifted and he looked surprised by her question.

"That is not an open topic of discussion, Miss Darcy."

"You brought it up, Mr. Worthington, not I."

He pursed his lips, seemingly irritated by her retort.

"I did, and now I am officially dropping it…believe me. Do not forget, Miss Darcy, that I have an ex-wife who has made it her life's mission to make sure I know what a monster I am – in both looks and attitude - and how much of a failure I am at being a man, a father, and especially a husband."

Of all the reactions he expected from her, a soft laugh was not one of them. His eyes narrowed and he was not sure how to take her laugher.

"Oh yes…by all means trust her opinion!" Christine scoffed, sounding completely appalled. "I would not trust the opinion of any woman who would leave a man like you for the likes of Alastair Goswick…" Christine assured him, not caring if she shocked him, "…the man is a first rate cad."

Erik lifted his smoky brow and looked rather stunned by her admission.

"A handsome, first rate cad from what I have been told." Erik responded, trying to hide the fact that what she said make difference to him.

She laughed again, a light, full sound that lifted his spirits.

"Handsome?" She questioned with a snort, "I suppose if all one cares about is foppish, feminine features and boring, predictable vanity; then yes, Alastair Goswick _might_ be considered handsome."

She stood in front of him finally; her fingers longing to push the dark strands of his hair from in front of his alluring eyes. She was trying not to sound too enthusiastic at the success of actually carrying on a civil conversation with him. "_But_…only if the lighting was just right and I had been drinking too much."

Erik found his mouth curving into an involuntary smile, despite his need to remain undeterred by her charm. His brow arched and looked at her with a slight smirk about his lips.

"Am I to assume that you are not impressed by his lawyer intelligence, golden hair, and devouring, brown eyes?"

She laughed and followed it with a hiccup that made her slap her hand over her mouth and mutter an apology. Erik found himself smiling at the picture he had in his head.

"I should think not…what you describe better matches the golden retriever my next door neighbor owned when I was a child…except she was not a lawyer…" Christine pointed out, "…but she was very intelligent."

With those words, he did laugh…full and hearty. Christine loved the sound and it seemed that some of the tension eased from their strained relationship.

"I have never met a woman who was not enamored with him…you are indeed unusual." Erik stated, sounding firm in his conviction, but there was a definite curve to his very kissable mouth.

She smiled and spoke the truth.

"Mr. Goswick is not my idea of a handsome man."

Erik's shoulders relaxed and he sank down into the mattress as though a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"It is a nice surprise to meet a woman who is not taken by his boyish charm and golden-boy looks."

Erik again moved toward the wash room, eager to have his bath, but finding himself enjoying the chance to talk to her…intelligently. He found it hard to believe that he was still standing in his room with nothing but a sheet covering his nudity, the door was wide open, and no one had come in to tell them how inappropriate the whole situation was.

However, Miss Darcy did not seem to mind…so he did not mind either.

"I was admiring the paintings on your wall during your recovery…and I have a few questions…" Christine watched his reaction to her discovery, and was surprised to see his brow lift inquisitively, "….do you mind?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled evasively, "It is only fair, with all you have put up with from me…" he chuckled lightly, "…I really thought you would have thrown up your hands in frustration and walked away by now."

Christine reached out and took his hand, not realizing she had done so, "I am every bit as stubborn as you are…" she teased, "…I am just not so intimidating."

Erik nodded his approval while enjoying the feel of her hand on his, knowing she spoke the truth. Christine pulled her hand back, thankful that he did not seem to have noticed – or just did not wish to be rude and yank his hand away from her.

"There is a little picture on your wall; it looks to be fairly old. It is of a family – parents and two little boys…" she watched a shadow settle in his eyes before she asked, "…who are they?"

Maybe it was time he talked to someone about it…he had wanted to on many occasions; but he never had very many friends, and those he did count as his friends had not been around at the time.

"That was my father, Captain Andrew Worthington., II and my mother, Victoria Smythe Worthington. The older boy is my brother, Andrew Worthington, III."

There was a hint of sadness in his voice when he mentioned his brother, but he seemed completely apathetic toward his parents.

"I know your parents have passed on, but where is your brother?"

Erik smiled sadly; uncertain about his ability to share his past with her…but it was time. He seemed willing to listen and he was tired of pushing her away…even if it was the only way to save his heart.

"It is a rather long story…are you sure you want to hear it?"

What could she say…that the sound of his voice made her want to throw caution to the wind and wrap herself in the heaven of his arms?

"Only if you want to tell me…otherwise, I will listen to whatever you want to talk about…" She responded, turning from him and heading toward the door, "…let me check on Gage, make sure he is doing what I asked him to do, make some lunch for him and you, and I will be back."

"Good idea…will you find Wesley and send him up here…there are a few personal things I must see to before we have a 'get acquainted' session…." Erik stated, "…give me a couple of hours."

Christine smiled, having forgotten this whole ordeal had begun with his desire to have a bath…something he had yet to do.

TBC 


	16. Chapter 16

A long overdue conversation, and one that I hope you will enjoy. It is the precursor for the conversation to come between Erik and Christine.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 16 – Secrets Kept

"You bellowed, sir?"

Erik rolled his eyes and smirked at the dull, methodic tone Wesley used as he casually strode into the room. It was a sure sign that he was in a playful and antagonistic mood, and Erik was all too eager to accommodate. He realized how long it had been since he had good-naturedly bantered with the man he considered more like a father than a servant.

"I am in need of a bath and you are just the man to make it happen." Erik stated with annoying confidence.

Wesley's response was droll and exactly what Erik expected.

"I am giddy with anticipation…" Erik's arched eyebrow caused Wesley to add with an equally blasé tone, "…you have no idea how many possibilities this opportunity affords me."

Baiting him even further, Erik ignores the understood goading in Wesley's words and makes his way toward the door; intending to walk down the hallway in full view of everyone…wearing nothing but a sheet.

Wesley – ever the consummate servant – could not stand by and watch his master parade around with so little between him and complete exposure. So as Erik swept past him on his way to the door, Wesley planted his booted foot upon the trailing tail of the sheet; halting Erik's progress with an abrupt jolt.

"I am afraid that I cannot allow you to proceed through that door without first informing you that upon your next attempt to leave this room, the sheet that is precariously covering you will float to the floor."

Erik perched his head sideways and a sheepish grin transformed his features in such a way that he looked very much like a diabolical strategist planning a massive invasion. He suddenly realized how much he missed being this man…the one that could tease and instigate as well as accept whatever retaliation his actions warranted. He and Wesley had always been close, but Erik knew he had closed himself off for many years – thinking he had failed at everything that was important.

"Why Wesley…that sounds very much like a threat." Erik teased, trying to sound profoundly stern.

"Do not think of it in such terms….think of it more as a promise."

Wesley's mouth turned up on the edges, relieving his features of much of the strain that had slowly been robbing him of his sense of humor. This was the young boy with whom he had wrestled; this was the young boy whose eyes had danced with excitement every time Wesley had mentioned a game of chess or hide-and-go-seek. He was on his way back to them, and Wesley had the distinct impression that there was a silver haired woman at the center of it all.

Erik chuckled and turned back around, the intriguing depths of his blind eyes shone with an inner sight that few men possessed, and Wesley saw within them the battle that raged between the light that Christine suddenly and firmly had planted in his soul and the darkness that had long resided within him.

"Relax, old man….I was just teasing you…I have no desire to streak through the manor with only a thin, flimsy sheet covering me." _Although, the thought of her eyes warming my skin with her heated gaze is very appealing._

Erik knew that Christine was not impervious to him, and he was surprised to find himself equally as attracted to her; a realization that would have petrified him two weeks ago. However, Erik found that he was unwilling to give up the new softness he felt in his heart or the sweet torture she seemed to reign down upon his body…he felt more alive than he ever had. He was tired of never feeling anything but hatred and bitterness in his heart and he wanted to experience an odd, unfamiliar thing called joy.

Wesley lifted his bushy brow and responded blandly, "It would not be the first time you colorfully painted these halls with your bare hind end; I seem to recall a very entertaining escapade when you were three-years-old and Anne chased…"

"…enough…point taken." Erik interrupted before Wesley recited his entire childhood shenanigans to anyone who happened to be listening. "How much longer do I have to wait to get a bath…have you any idea?"

"The water is being pumped as we speak and soon you will be able to undergo your beauty regiment."

Erik frowned and cast his friend a baleful look, praying that he was staring him directly in the eye.

"Beauty regiment…just what is that supposed to mean?"

Wesley almost burst out laughing at the expression on Erik's face. There were few things in life that felt as rewarding as hounding his stoic master; the man he had longed to call son on many occasions. Erik had once been a good-natured boy – despite the misfortune of his childhood - but life and circumstances had slowly changed him. The scowl that had become a permanent part of his features made those who knew him think him older than his thirty-two years.

"Are you going to stand there and tell me that you are not attracted to Miss Darcy?" Wesley challenged, "I was not born yesterday, sir; I can see the way you react to her…everyone can…" he smiled when Erik quickly drew his breath in, "…especially Anne."

Erik turned from him, thinking to hide the turbulent emotions that clouded his features. What had he done that warranted such humiliation? Why did his body and heart flagrantly display what his mind refused to accept?

"Does _she_ know?"

What use was there in denying it? Erik had been many things in his life, but a liar was not one of them…and especially not to himself.

"I would venture to say, no…_she_ does not." Wesley stated, "In fact, I would say she most likely thinks you cannot stand the sight of her…" he fuddled, "…poetically speaking."

Wesley's heart reached out to his young master…a man who had endured more tragedy and pain than a soul should ever have to see. What could he do to make him realize that he was worthy of the love of a good woman…and Lucy had not been a good woman? She had not been worthy of him…but Erik did not see it that way.

"However, there is no time like the present to show her otherwise."

Erik's head lifted quickly and he gulped back his first thoughts. Could he sacrifice his sanity and put his heart on the line if it meant getting a chance with Christine? Could she look past the major flaws he possessed and see that he was just a man after all? He longed to tell his heart to proceed on its current track and that caution was an absolute necessity.

"I do not even know where to begin, Wesley; It has been years since a woman stirred me like this..." he blinked back the panic that he knew filled his eyes, "…part of me is eager to prove its worth, and the other part of me fears I will come up sadly lacking."

Wesley crossed the room and put his warm hand on the shoulder of his master, much like a father would do with a son he was trying to encourage.

"It is my belief that you must be willing to risk something if you want to gain anything. You need to be free, Erik….free to love and be loved in a way you have never known, free to experience all the joy that life can offer; and even if you have these things for only a moment in time…at least you had them."

Erik considered those words while Wesley prepared his bath. How could he trust his fickle heart that had so misled him where Lucy was concerned? No, Erik thought, his forehead worried as a revelation came upon him, my heart never belonged to Lucy to begin with…so how could it have misled me?

As he sank appreciatively into the warm water, Erik addressed Wesley once again. "Why did I ever marry Lucy to begin with…what was I thinking?"

Wesley knew Erik was talking to him and the subject was a touchy one. Lucy had never been a favorite of Anne and Wesley's, even in the early years when she was still a young girl and with a big attitude.

"You were not thinking, sir." Wesley murmured, sitting down in the far corner of the large washroom. "You were doing your duty as it was dictated to you…that is all."

"Marriage should never be a duty…that much is obvious." Erik agreed, his eyes closing lazily while images floated in his mind. "I never once saw my mother and father embrace each other…they never showed any affection toward each other at all."

"That would be because they did not love each other, sir." Wesley stated, aware that he was degrading the very people who had employed him for years. "Theirs was a marriage of convenience from the beginning…a marriage that was supposed to produce the heir that had so long been awaited."

"Which it did…when Andrew was born." Erik countered.

"Yes."

"Then there was me."

Wesley had an idea where this was leading and he was tired of hiding things that should have been out in the open years ago; things that Erik should have known.

"What a disappointment I was…I was not like either one of them; and it was painfully obvious every day of my life."

"You are correct, Erik…you are not like either one of them, and there is a logical reason for that."

His heart stilled in his chest and his breathing ceased…Erik lifted his head from the edge of the tub and turned his eyes toward heaven, as though seeking strength he knew he did not possess on his own.

"Explain yourself, Wesley…before I start drawing conclusions of my own."

Wesley sighed deeply and leaned forward on the bench upon which he sat, "It is a guarded secret that only Anne and I are aware of…as we were sworn to uphold it, no matter what."

Erik lowered his head and buried it within the folds of his hands. He could feel a dark cloud descending upon him, but the storm promised to bring much needed answers…so he braced himself for whatever was to come.

"You are the son of Captain Andrew Worthington, II. and the Scottish nanny that Victoria had hired to care for your brother, Raelin Brechin."

Sitting in stunned shock for a few moments, Erik finally chuckled in mock amusement and shook his head; it sure explained a great deal. There were so many questions he needed to ask and he could not find a place to begin; if there was a place to begin under such circumstances.

"Before you ask, you look like her...the same coloring, eyes, spirit…everything."

Erik sensed something in his voice that made his heart constrict, "You sound as though you liked her."

"We did…all of us; and your father loved her."

Tears burned his eyes and Erik desperately pushed them back…crying was one thing his father had never tolerated.

"What happened to her?"

He wanted to know, but something told him that the story was not a pleasant one. He heard Wesley stand up and start gathering his shaving kit and the soap.

"She was only seventeen when she got pregnant…your father never denied that he loved her and that the baby she carried was his. Victoria coldly accepted the news and after you were born, allowed Raelin to stay long enough to nurse you until you could walk."

Erik took the soap that was placed in his hand and began scrubbing, hanging on every word.

"Shortly before you turned eight months old, Raelin died of a high fever – two days before her nineteenth birthday."

Tears came with those words; he had a mother he never knew, but whose body had held and nurtured him for the earliest days of his life…and his father had loved her.

"Your father never quite got over her loss…and things only got worse from there."

"No wonder mother hated me." He sounded like a lost boy; his voice distant and small.

Wesley took the razor and shaved Erik gently and thoroughly, talking as he worked.

" Victoria tried to hide the animosity she was feeling; not only toward you, but toward your father as well. She struggled to put aside the magnitude of his infidelity and focus on the fact that you were an infant that needed a mother, regardless of the fact that you were the product of an affair her husband had had. In the end, she could not put it aside."

Something had always tickled the back of his mind about his place in the family, ever since he had been old enough to notice the differences. He was stunned for a few moments, only because he was surprised to find that he had been closer to the truth than he had realized.

As Erik washed his hair diligently and allowed Wesley to rinse it, he could not help but reiterate his earlier thoughts…_yes, this certainly explains a great deal._

◄▼►

Wesley helped Erik dress for the afternoon and evening, wanting him to look debonair and dashing while sweeping Miss Darcy off her feet. They had not further discussed her, but Wesley knew she was the key to his happiness. Anne had been right about her all along.

"Why did you not tell me this sooner?" Erik demanded as he pulled his hair back and tied it with a piece of leather strapping.

Wesley fussed over his collar and cravat like a mother hen and was finally pleased with the way it looked. He stood back and examined Erik from head to toe before answering.

"There never seemed to be an opportune time…after all that has happened. I just did not have it in me to add to your heartache and depression. Only recently have I seen an improvement in your demeanor, enough that I felt you could handle the truth."

Erik agreed with a nod of his head, and that was that. Wesley was right, he would have been unable to process the truth as recent as two weeks ago; but there was a light beginning to penetrate the thick darkness inside him…and even the tiniest light provides hope of more to come.

TBC 


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you for the reviews and private messages, I love hearing from you.

I want to take this opportunity to thank my beta, Mlle.Fox, for all of her wonderful knowledge and suggestions; not to mention, her invaluable proofreading abilities. Love ya lots, my friend!

Onward we go...

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 17 – Interrogations and Interruptions

Two short weeks ago, no one would have convinced Christine that Erik Worthington would agree to talk to her about anything, let alone his past; but he had agreed to do just that. She prepared carefully and precisely, not caring that he could not see her. She wanted to look her best for him.

After spending the past hour and a half with Gage, teaching him about literature and reading, Christine was ready for other things. She had just started up the stairs to prepare for their meeting, when she heard a carriage approaching. She glanced at the clock in the corner and saw that it was three in the afternoon; a good time for receiving visitors, but she was uncertain as to whom it could be.

Wesley, having just come downstairs, allowed the visitor to bang the knocker a couple of times before responding by opening the door. Christine came back down the stairs, pulling her hair back under her hat and straightening her clothes. She had put on one of the new working outfits that Erik had bought for her. The design was quite light and comfortable, allowing her to move more freely and sweat a great deal less. It was a beautiful bright blue with white accents, and practical, flat shoes to keep her feet from being sore.

Wesley opened the door wide enough to see that the caller was not Lucy or Alistair; thankfully, he found a small family standing there with smiling faces. The young woman presented Wesley with their calling cards, expecting him to place them on the hall table and send them on their way.

"Please come into the hall while we summon the master."

Pleasantly surprised, the young family came gingerly into the manor, their eyes roving over the beauty of the carved wood and plasterwork. There was clear admiration on their faces, as though they were unaccustomed to such finery.

Wesley handed Anne the cards and sent her upstairs to speak with Erik. She smiled tightly, knowing how Erik was with strangers – actually, he was that way with everyone. She only hoped he would be accommodating and accepting of this young family,

Christine finished coming down the stairs and smiled brightly at the young couple and the two children that stood quietly behind their mother. She made her way to the parlor, prepared to receive the guests should Erik accept their request.

►▼◄

Anne knocked upon the door, and entered only when Erik acknowledged her presence. He stood at the window, a habit he had had since he was barely old enough to look over the ledge. He was dressed impeccably; a long waist coat of the softest wool in smoky gray, with matching pants and a starched, white shirt, black vest, and a black cravat…the man looked stunning.

He had put the mask on, but the he had altered the design. It was more like a domino mask, except it only had one side and covered only the area that had been injured. In Anne's womanly opinion, it resembled a large eye patch – with the eye showing; it only seemed to add to his ruthless attractiveness and gave him an air of danger that would make just about any woman's heart speed up in anticipation of his touch.

"Erik."

He lifted his head in surprise, expecting to have heard Christine's voice.

"Anne, is something wrong?" There was a slight lift of concern in his tone.

"Not at all, but I must say…" she whistled adoringly, "…you look like you are ready to charm the entire city of London."

He could not help but feel wonderful because of her words, "I took your advice, Anne; Miss Darcy and I are going to have a get-acquainted evening tonight….she has a few questions to ask me and I have a few to ask her."

He paused only long enough to turn in Anne's direction.

"Wesley and I had a lengthy discussion about my birth mother….thank you for waiting until I was ready to hear it before revealing it to me…" Erik stated softly, "…somehow I always knew something was not right."

Anne walked up to him and embraced him a warm, motherly hug…she was thankful that the truth was finally out; there had been so many times she had wanted to tell him, but he had not been ready.

"It is long overdue…the information about your mother and the talk with Christine…" she placed the cards in his hand, knowing he could not read them, but he would know what they were, "…you have visitors; Mr. Worthington…neighbors, if I were venturing a guess."

A strange smile flirted on his lips and Erik lifted a sculpted brow in bemusement.

"Neighbors…I do not have neighbors."

His comically defiant tone made her laugh and she pushed her arm through the crook of his elbow, leading him toward the door.

"You do now."

"But…." Erik stuttered, nervous about meeting other people.

"You need to work on your social skills, you are no longer the Commodore whose authority reigns without question; you need to learn to play nice with others."

He chuckled at her choice of words and shrugged his broad shoulders.

"I can be civil when I must be."

Anne chuckled and gently swatted his arm.

"I know you can…now, allow the charm that I know you possess to shine through and captivate your audience."

He "humphed" at her suggestion, but Anne could see the smile enter his seafoam colored eyes; he longed to be the man he had once been and he was beginning to take whatever strides were needed to be that man.

He handed the cards back to her with a smirk, she was smugly proud of herself, he was certain of that, "What are their names, Anne…if I am to strike up any meaningful conversations, I need to know their names."

Anne peered at the cards and spoke evenly, not giving him the satisfaction of her amused smile.

"They are Mr. Jonathan Browning and his wife, Mrs. Katherine Browning…" Anne stated, "…there are also two children with them, a boy and a girl around Gage's age."

Erik nodded, acknowledging that he understood, "When you go down there please make them aware that there is no lady of the manor…Miss Darcy will have to keep the young woman occupied should the need arise."

Anne agreed and headed down to inform Wesley that he could receive the family into the parlor…Erik would be down shortly.

►▼◄

Anne nodded to Wesley as she handed him the cards and Wesley bowed slightly, "Please follow me to the parlor, the Commodore will be with you soon."

The young family followed him quietly, the children covering their mouths to hide their giggles as Wesley wiggled his bushy eyebrows at them and winked.

Christine had already ordered tea to the parlor and she had arranged the room for receiving. It seemed that Erik had few if any visitors and the room had not been prepared. She had quickly remedied that flaw; the windows were open and the curtains drawn wide to allow fresh air to flow, and the room was flawlessly arranged.

Wesley cleared his throat as the couple took their seats, the children standing behind their mother's chair politely.

"I feel that I need to let you know a few things before the master arrives. Commodore Erik Worthington is a decorated war hero – a fact that he does not care to discuss. The war cost him his eyesight, his career, and he is scarred on the right side of his face. He tends to cover the scars with various masks at times, or he may choose to leave the mask off…it depends on his mood.

"He was married for a few years, but is now divorced and he has sole custody of his son, Gage Worthington, who will turn seven in a couple of weeks."

Wesley bowed again as the looked up to see Anne walking toward Erik as he descended the stairs in graceful elegance.

◄▼►

The occupants of the room stood, feeling the power of the man radiate around them; he demanded attention just by entering the room. His mask only grabbed their eyes for a brief moment, as the rest of him was worth a longer look.

"May I present Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Browning." Wesley announced, nodding to the young man.

"Hello, Mr. Worthington…thank you for having us into your lovely home."

Erik lifted his brow inquisitively and a smile graced his mouth.

"My wife, Katherine, and I have admired your home for a few days; we have not been in England very long, and enjoy the beauty of it very much." Jonathan looked around the room as he spoke, completely enamored with the light blue of the wallpaper and the shining floors. "

"Please, sit down." Erik instructed, taking a seat in the high-back, Queen Anne chair directly across from the large fireplace.

"You have a lovely home, Mr. Worthington….how long have you lived here?" Kathryn's lovely accented voice filled the room and Erik lifted his head and smiled broadly, he felt a swell of pride for the ancestral home he had never really appreciated before.

"Thank you…it is rather large and can be quite gloomy- I am sure, but it is mine." Erik did not realize there was a look of sadness in his eyes. "I was born here and other than my years in the Royal Navy, I have never left."

Katherine heard a yearning in his voice that made her glance at Christine with a lifted brow. She caught her husband's wary look and smiled sweetly.

"Do forgive me, Mr. Worthington…." She stuttered slightly and glanced over at her husband again, "…Jonathan tells me I tend to speak too much for English society…apparently women are to be seen and not heard."

"Nonsense, if that was the case then I would not even know there were women in the house…now would I?" Erik responded, smirking adoringly and dripping with charm.

Christine watched him closely, feeling the uncomfortable swell of jealousy loom in her chest. Why was she feeling that, he certainly did not belong to her and Katherine Browning was a happily married woman?

Despite that, Christine could see that the woman saw an attractive, virile man when she looked at Erik Worthington; and although Christine agreed with that assessment, sharing him was not something she was willing to do.

"I am sure that you have met my staff; Miss Darcy…" he knew she was in the room, he could smell the lavender in the air, "…she is my son's nanny…Wesley, my butler and life-long friend; his wife, Anne, the lady that keeps this entire household in order…and there are many others that are in various places at various times."

There was pride in his tone, something Christine had never taken the time to notice before. Erik had genuine affection for each person that worked for him and loved Anne and Wesley as though they were family.

"Yes, we had the pleasure of meeting Wesley, Anne, and Christine." Jonathan stated.

Erik lifted his eyes and stared precisely in the direction that Katherine Browning was sitting. "Mrs. Browning, as I am a divorced man and I have no lady of the house…but Miss Darcy is highly intelligent and equally as witty; I am sure the two of you will become fast friends."

Christine's eyes shot up as he complimented her in front of the young couple. She had never thought he would do such a thing; it seemed that the man who stood before her at this very moment was a complete stranger.

"I think you are right, Mr. Worthington…and please, call me Katherine."

Christine pushed aside her newfound jealousy and smiled, "Would it be alright for the children to go and play with Gage, he is right upstairs in his room?"

"Of course…" Katherine stated, turning to her two children.

"Kevin…Karen…I want you both to behave yourselves and follow the nice lady up to the room, I will come and get you later."

Christine led them upstairs, leaving Erik to play host as he seemed quite capable of doing.

He waited until he no longer heard the children before responding, "I must insist that you both call me Erik…now, what brings you to our bonnie fair shores from the states?"

They young couple looked at each other, grasped hands, and Jonathan finally answered, "The inevitability of war, Erik….I give it just a few years and my country will be in arms against itself."

Erik nodded and ran his hand through his hair, "Yes…." He said with a troubled brow, "…so I have heard."

There are some subjects, by society's standards, that are too violent for the delicate female ears, and war was one of them. Erik asked that Anne take Katherine and go check on the children, while he and Jonathan discussed the impending war that loomed over the states.

The ladies excused themselves and proceeded up the stairs to Gage's room, surprising Christine who had been keeping an eye on them while the others got acquainted.

"This room is so unique." Katherine observed as she noted the jungle-like ambiance that still dominated the room.

"Mr. Worthington has been unable to travel since the war and feels he can take Gage with him on many trips around the world…without leaving the confines of this room."

The pride in Anne's voice was evident and Christine once again saw how much the older woman loved Erik; she had watched him grow from infancy and she considered him her son in every way but blood.

"I think it is admirable, the way he has taken on being a single father and coping with his injuries. He is a most unusual man."

They all agreed on that point, as they sat down on the bed and watched the children play.

"Gage is a miniature replica of Erik, is he not?" Katherine stated, smiling as they tore down the tower they had just constructed with the blocks.

"Yes, he is…I was amazed at how alike they are in many aspects when I first took this position."

Katherine smiled and winked at Christine.

"You are the nanny, but you would like to be more, would you not?"

Christine lifted her brow and made eye contact with Katherine…confusion clouding her features she realized she was transparent to everyone who had eyes to see.

Anne laughed merrily, thankful to be finally able to say something.

"Oh Christine, you were his for the taking from the first day you were here."

Christine blushed and dropped her eyes – slightly embarrassed for being so easy to figure out, but not ashamed of the feelings she had for him.

"So…" Katherine asked, smiling broadly and curling her legs up beneath her on the bed, "…what are you going to do about it?"

Christine threw her hands up in the air and looked completely shocked, "There is nothing I _can_ do about it…he is above me and therefore, beyond my reach…" she dropped her eyes and sadness crept into her tone, "…at least for a formal relationship…and I will settle for nothing less."

"Come now…surely you are not serious?"

Both Anne and Christine looked at Katherine with confused expressions.

"I am a nanny to him, nothing more….he thinks of me as a servant in his household. Besides…" she played with her fingers, twirled her dress strings, anything to keep from looking at Katherine, "…he barely tolerates me and we fight constantly." Although Christine had to admit that he had seemed far more open to her today than ever before.

Anne cleared her throat and rubbed her chin in much the same fashion that Erik did when he was thinking.

"Maybe so, but you can redirect all the passion he puts into fighting and arguing…" Christine lifted both brows, glanced at Katherine and then looked back at Anne as she continued, "…he has been through so much and finds it hard to trust…but you get more of a response out of him than anyone I have ever seen."

"But there are some things that could get in the way…" Christine began.

"It does not matter…" Anne assured her, "…if it is meant to be, nothing will matter."

"He is quite a handsome man, is he not…all that delightfully sinful hair, his beautiful eyes…the scar only seems to add to his mysterious darkness."

Christine smiled at Katherine and narrowed her eyes, "You are a married woman….what are you doing looking so intently?"

"I am married…that is true; but I am not dead."

Christine tried not to smile when Katherine said those words, but the woman was so sincere and Christine had to agree…they both laughed.

►▼◄

"It all came down to choosing the lesser of two evils…"Jonathan stated, determination rampant in his eyes; his brow wrinkling in consternation, "…either stay in Baltimore, and hope the war did not touch my family in any way…or leave."

"I think you made the right decision, John, if you are seeking affirmation."

Erik sat with his legs crossed in front of him, his hands clasped together and settled in his lap, and a stern lift to his chin. Jonathan had never met a man of Erik's knowledge and intelligence that was as forthright and honest – it was refreshing.

"I would not have wanted to raise my son under such conditions – hoping to shield him from the evils of men that so often overshadow good intentions…." Erik stated softly, the steady lull of his voice mesmerizing and comforting, "…war has its purposes, my friend…but those purposes can be lost in the decisions and choices made by foolish men with blind ambitions and empty pockets."

How true that was, and Jonathan was so happy to hear it from a man who had been there…and had lost so much.

" England seemed the best choice for us…my grandparents were from Salisbury and Katherine's grandparents were from Scotland."

Erik heard the young man get up out of his chair and head toward the window.

"It is beautiful here…I had come to visit with my mother when I was a child. I talked it over with my employer who encouraged me to follow my intuition, we sold our house, and without looking back…we came here."

"What is it that you do, John…if I may ask?" Erik asked softly.

He moved back to the chair and sat down. There was a long, pregnant pause before Erik heard him shift in his chair.

"I am…" he paused, "…sorry…I _was_ a Pinkerton detective working out of Baltimore."

Erik lifted his head and turned toward John, seemingly focusing on him directly, "Interesting, I have heard of that organization…and its brilliant founder."

"I am not surprised…the man is ahead of his time…his detectives are the finest…." John cleared his throat and chuckled softly, "…even if I do say so myself."

"Papa, papa, papa!!!"

Erik braced himself for what was to come…Gage bounded into this lap in one giant leap and wrapped his arms around his papa's neck.

"Yes, Little Warrior?" He asked with a smile, pressing the small frame of son close and hugging him gently.

"Can I go over to Karen and Kevin's house tonight…pwease!!! They want me to come and spend the night at their house and play with them!"

A part of Erik's heart broke off, realizing that these children could give his son the one thing he could not give him… comparable companionship.

"You need to ask their parents, Gage…they are the ones that will say yes or no."

The excited boy turned toward Katherine and smiled his most becoming smile, wrapping himself around her heart in one brief instant.

"Of course you can come over, Gage…I would love to have you."

She walked up to Erik and softly spoke, in such a way that he knew she was talking to him.

"I do not have a nanny, if that is alright. I watch the children closely and my mother lives with us, so she helps with them also."

Erik bowed his head and smiled, in the same breathtaking way that Gage did – but it had a much different effect on the woman in front of him.

"There is no need to even worry over it; I hope he will not be a problem….and I am sure that Miss Darcy would be happy to accompany him any time you desire it."

Katherine looked at Christine, sharing a, "what a lucky woman you are" look, and smiled.

"That would be wonderful….I am sure he will be no problem at all…we will have him back tomorrow in the late afternoon."

Erik patted Gage on the head and then knelt down to his level.

"Go pack a nightshirt and a change of clothes for tomorrow…and take an extra pair of shoes…" he teased, "…you never know what you are going to get into."

Christine went with him and in no time at all, he was ready to go, excitement bursting from every pore in his body. He practically ran down the stairs and had a hard time coming to a stop before slamming into his father's long, solid legs; but he managed.

"You be a good boy, Gage…I will miss you."

Erik swept him up into his arms and placed a fatherly kiss upon his forehead. His green eyes were turbulent and sad as he stood by and allowed his son to leave him. It did not matter that Gage was doing so with a happy heart instead of a heavy one…he was still leaving.

"Well, Mr. Worthington…" Christine murmured, as she came to stand beside his still figure, "…it seems we finally have some time for that talk."

He looked down at her, not certain if she could see the wariness and doubt that he knew was blatant in his eyes, "So it would seem."

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, don't let it be said that I don't listen to my readers...

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 18 – Dare to Be That Woman

They both moved in unison, onto the front portico. The afternoon was lush and warm with hardly a sound to interrupt the moment. It was almost as if they were the only two people left on the face of the earth.

Wesley and Anne, as well as the other household staff, seemed to have miraculously disappeared. Christine had assured Anne that she was not a naïve young woman whose reputation was in jeopardy if she and Erik were alone together, she was a worldly woman with vast knowledge of men and their minds…as well as their bodies.

Erik led them onto the front garden; quietly and effectively trying to disguise his apprehension; he had shared little of himself with people as the years had passed and he was not one to push his problems off on others. Something inside him, a part of him that he seldom explored, wanted to trust the young woman who had suddenly come to mean so much to him.

"Would you like to talk outside on the veranda, or would you prefer to stay here?"

Her sultry tone invaded his thoughts, but he failed to form an answer to her question. He allowed himself to relax a little bit, knowing that his past was something that needed to be discussed if he intended to move on…with her or without her. He had yet to convince himself that she would have the slightest interest in a man who was not quite whole and whose past was shrouded in darkness and bitterness.

Christine knew he was not keen on the idea of opening up to her. There was an anxious slant to his eyes and a trill in his tone, but she was not going to let the opportunity escape. He was the bravest man she had ever known, but when it came to baring his past or sharing anything about himself, he became nervous and uptight.

"I think outside is a wonderful idea…is there someplace more private where we can avoid interruptions?"

She answered her own question and then asked another. His interest piqued, he lifted his head and turned in her direction; although he did not quite face her. Her lavender scent seemed to meld with a soft tease of vanilla that had his head spinning and his body fighting a sudden swell of lust.

Someplace more private? Actually, there were a couple of them, but he was not sure he could take her to either one of them. She was a young, unmarried woman and he was a man…it would not look right; and despite what she thought, just the idea of being alone with her was a temptation with which Erik was having a hard time coping. Women had long been a mystery to him; Lucy having been the only one he had any history with at all. He could feel himself yielding to her, more and more every day; being consumed by her warmth and wit; the freshness of her – everything.

She looked up at him, his face bathed in the sunlight that seemed to favor him so much. His charcoal hair fell over his shoulders, moving gently in the breeze and capturing Christine's fascination. Her fingers itched to comb their way through its thick folds, capturing it in her fists as his mouth descended toward hers…

"Do you ride, Miss Darcy?"

She did not hear him at first, lost in the fantasy as she was.

"Miss Darcy?"

She startled that time, hearing the concern in his voice.

"Excuse me?" She asked, thankful that the red in her cheeks did not show in her voice.

Erik frowned but repeated his question.

"Do you ride?"

Her first inclination was to feign some knowledge of horseback riding…or horses in general; but the truth of the matter was, she had not a clue. Of course, the possibilities began swarming in her head and all she could do was smile.

"No, but if you are wishing to go somewhere I would be happy to ride with you."

Erik, completely unaware of the direction of her thoughts, did not quite grasp the meaning behind her suggestion.

"I believe I have a mare that is gentle enough for a beginner, Lancelot knows the way and he and I have been together since I was old enough to ride. I no longer have to lead him, he will take us there, all I have to do is point him in the right direction."

Not quite the solution she was going for; so she tried again.

"I would prefer to ride on the same horse with you…I am petrified of being on one by myself."

Erik stood stark still for a moment – trying to comprehend what she was saying. She had to be joking…honestly…how he was supposed to survive a horseback ride with her body so closely molded to his was a mystery. It was madness in its most torturous and enticing form.

He fished around for some excuse, but was unable to come up with one….so he decided to feign stupidity, hoping she was not aware of the rush of pure lust that claimed his body.

"Excuse me?"

Trying to keep from rolling his eyes at his own cowardly behavior, Erik sounded panicked, he knew he did; but even the briefest mention of her riding on the same horse with her bottom pushed against his growing interest, had him breathing heavier, and shameless images filling his mind….what was he to do?

"I will ride on the same horse with you…if it is not too much of a bother."

She was good…he would give her that. He was certain she knew what she was doing; she could not be that innocent and be a nurse. He was bloody certain she knew his body tightened and became feverish at the prospect of being so close to her.

"I think you would be much more comfortable on a horse by yourself, Miss Darcy…I ride bareback and it can be quite uncomfortable for someone who had never ridden before." Did it sound like he was begging? To his own ears, it did, but he hoped she did not catch on to it. "I can easily lead the horse beside Lancelot; as I said, he knows the way."

They had made it to the stables somehow; Christine was so involved in teasing him that she failed to realize they had arrived. Erik knew every inch of his property apparently – not once pausing to rethink his steps or doubt his direction.

He had stopped in front of a stall that housed the most beautiful animal she had ever seen. Dark, proud, and distinguished – just like his owner – Lancelot looked the part. Erik was propped against the stall door, trying to hide the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat and the lustful, anticipatory swell of his body.

Christine walked up and stood directly in front of him, she felt his body heat radiate toward her and she knew she had his full attention – even if he could only sense her. She did not touch him, but when she spoke, he would know she was very close…close enough to present a real threat to his stoic certainty.

"What is the matter, Mr. Worthington, does the idea of being so close to me make you uncomfortable?"

She was feeling exceptionally bold and there was little holding her back…actually, there was nothing holding her back. There was no denying that he was attracted to her…the evidence was clear enough…impressively clear; and she was tired of avoiding the issue.

Erik feared very little in life…but this woman had his insides trembling with pent up frustration and caged passion. As though it had a mind of its own, his hand found the soft skin of her arm, laid bare by the short sleeves of her day gown, and a fire began to burn in the pit of his stomach.

She looked into his face and knew he could not believe he was touching her, but he seemed unable or unwilling to remove his hand; and Christine did not desire him to stop. She leaned even closer, her breath fluttering across his exposed cheek like butterfly wings.

"Do I make you uncomfortable…Erik?"

His eyes drifted shut at the sound of his name on her lips. He knew she was purposefully goading him…but it had been so long since a woman had enticed him in any way…and he found himself willingly wrapping himself in her silk web.

"Yes…" he leaned toward her and breathed deeply, taking her scent deep into his body, "…everything about you makes me immensely uncomfortable, and I remain that way for the greater part of each day."

He gently pulled her to him, his long body leaning securely against the door of the stall. Her tall, generous curves came against him with torturous perfection and he raised his hand to her face.

The pads of his fingers traced the outline of her cheek, and the curvature of her eyes. Her long lashes floated over his fingertips and he pulled in his breath sharply as his thumb grazed the fullness of her mouth and then moved to the gentle slope of her nose.

His other hand came up and found the pins that held her hair, releasing it from its prison. She had ceased wearing the hat when she felt accepted by everyone around her, but she had been keeping it pinned above her head in a loose bun…just to keep it out of her eyes. However, as his fingers tunneled through it, and a soft growl sounded in the back of his throat, Christine swore she would never wear it up again.

He was learning everything about her with the sensitive tips of his exquisitely deft fingers. He had beautiful, big hands…one of the first things she had noticed about him; the hands of an artist or a musician – long fingers with a sensitive, tender touch.

"You should be pushing me away from you for taking such liberties…" he whispered, "…we were only supposed to talk."

It was her turn to steal her fingers across his flesh. She touched his cheek and then gracefully swept her thumb over his sinful mouth. He shivered against her and she smiled at the knowledge…he was having a hard time controlling himself.

"We are talking..." She whispered, "…with our hands."

His brow lifted and his stormy eyes took on the look of a man surrendering to the desires of his heart. He was fighting a battle he would never win…but for what was he fighting; his sanity, his heart, or his right to love and be loved like any other man?

She pressed her peaked breasts into his hard chest and rested her head against his neck; her lips feathered across the curve of his jaw and she felt his reaction to her resting proudly against her heated core.

Her long, tall, curvaceous body felt like heaven against him. He had only dreamed of having a woman who could meet his height as she did and whose passions seemed to match his own. Christine seemed to come alive in his arms; his touch fostering desire in her like none he had ever known.

His hands moved up her arms and cradled her shoulders as she teasingly slid her lips across his pulse. It occurred to her that he probably thought her brazen or a fallen woman…but she was beyond caring.

"Every instinct tells me that you are going to shatter my heart into a million pieces…but for reasons I cannot even fathom..." her pulled back from her slightly, "…I want to know where this leads."

He almost did it…almost tasted the sweetness he knew was only a breath away. His body was paying homage to the tall, full-figured beauty that was giving him pleasure just by being in his arms. Her hair had felt like silk on his skin and what he could see with his hands told him she was an unusual beauty – maybe not classically beautiful like Lucy – but stunning in her own right. The lush curves he longed to explore made him ache to make her his in a very primal way.

He growled in sexual frustration as he pushed her gently away from him and stood straight once more, not even caring that she could see the hardened evidence of his desire through the material of his pants…they were adults and there was no reason to deny it.

"Riding is definitely not a good idea." He knew that her body against his in such an intimate fashion would only lead to things he was not sure she was ready for…or even wanted, for that matter.

He closed the stall door and headed out of the stables with Christine falling in step beside him. She could see the determined scowl on his face and knew he was disappointed in his lack of control.

"There are other places…we can sit in the gardens; or perhaps the observatory would be a good place."

Christine did not care where they talked, as long as she could be near him. He was fighting again his own desires and she would see to it that it was a losing battle. It had felt so good to be in his arms, even briefly. When his hand had sketched her face with a delicate, evocative touch there had been nothing she wanted more than to feel the heated glory of his kiss and have his fingers explore other parts of her anatomy with equal finesse; but he had stopped himself.

She stopped him abruptly in his steps before he had a chance to say anything else. She had him quickly pushed against the hard trunk of a large poplar tree, her tall frame effectively pinning him against her.

"You do not have to protect me, Erik…I am a grown woman with a woman's needs…" She ran her hands suggestively up his chest, "…there is more than just witty jibes and verbal jousting between us."

Somewhere between witty jibes and verbal jousting, Erik lost the ability to speak. Her hands felt like tiny doses of the most potent aphrodisiac upon his heated skin. She pulled the leather strap from his hair, spilling the inky thickness of it over his shoulders and then she wound her hands through it.

He captured her hands in his and pulled her roughly against the hard planes of his body. He buried his face in her hair, his lips sending shivers of desire through her as he skimmed them along the column of her neck. "You are baiting me, beautiful; be careful that you are ready for what you catch."

When he called her beautiful, she actually believed it was so.

"I am not beautiful…but it makes me feel beautiful when you call me that."

He gently pushed her away and stood up straight, desperately fighting the call of his body's needs.

"You are beautiful…." He smiled with astounding brilliance and wrapped a curl of her hair around his index finger, "…my fingers never lie."

He continued to twirl the strand of hair with an odd look covering his features; he finally lifted his eyes toward her, "What color is your hair? It is as soft as silk and its fragrance tantalizes me every time I am near you."

She stood as still as a statue, fearing his retreat when he learned of her odd coloring.

Erik felt the light tensing and knew she hesitated to tell him.

"Gage told me it was the color of the moon glistening in the sky at night..." He told her, "…he was under your spell the moment you stepped into this life."

She was pleasantly surprised to find that he already knew about her hair…

"He also said your eyes are purple…which I would translate as violet."

…and her eyes.

She smiled in relief and then teasingly responded, "Do you always discuss women with your six-year-old son?"

Erik smirked adorably, further enrapturing her, "Only you, I assure you…" he chuckled, "…he is really quite wise about such things."

"Fair enough…" she stated with a smile in her voice, "…my hair is silvery blond and my eyes are violet. I have been the victim of ridicule and hatred all my life because of it."

His brow creased in a frown, "Just because of your hair color?"

She sighed, and sat down on the ground, folding her legs underneath her.

"Sit down…it is really quite nice here." She watched him gracefully sit, stretching his long, leanly muscled legs out in front of him. "My hair, my eyes, and my height have cost me dearly throughout most of my life. I learned to hide my hair underneath hats of various sizes, but I could not change my eyes or my height."

Erik could hear the seeping bitterness in her voice as she spoke; she carried a great deal of it with her everywhere she went.

"After my father died, my stepmother would call me a freak of nature and sell me to the highest bidder for a day." She stopped as Erik's features turned very dark, and she sensed he wanted to hunt her stepmother down and strangle her, "I would come home at night with my hands raw from cleaning and scrubbing for whoever had paid for my services. Thankfully, I ran away before my innocence was ripped from me by the next high bidder."

Erik breathed a visible sigh of relief; she must have known what he was thinking. He wondered if she was still an innocent; her boldness with him was unusual, but by no means meant she was anything but pure.

"Your stepmother should be drawn and quartered for what she did to you." He growled. Erik could feel the rage building within him. He had not ever wanted to injure a woman as much as he wanted to at that point in time.

"It is over now, and my struggles have made me a strong, independent woman. It was after this that I found the doctor and learned all that I know about medicine under his tutelage."

Erik was thankful for the kind man that had taken Christine under his wing and given her the chance to be more than most women were allowed to be.

"I, for one, am glad that you found each other."

"Me too; I spent the next few years leaning about medicine and then I had the chance to study first hand under the greatest nurse I have ever had the privilege of working with…Florence Nightingale."

"She tended to me after I got injured…I only met her once, but she sounded like a wonderful woman."

"She is…she taught me a great deal."

Erik heard the pride in her voice; pride in her accomplishments and pride in her teacher. He sat quietly listening to her as she spoke. He loved the sound of her voice and the ease with which she spoke to him. He realized she had stopped speaking and he could feel her eyes on him. He knew she had asked something of him, but he had not heard it.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"Who taught you to sing like you do?" She repeated.

He frowned as though he intended to deny his ability; however, he seemed to accept that she knew he could sing…and sing well. He ran his hand down his face and rubbed the smooth surface of his jaw.

"No one taught me, I come by it naturally." He stated without conceit.

"I have never heard such beauty…and I mean that." She boldly leaned over and took his hand in hers, "One of the first things I noticed about you were your hands…they are the hands of a musician or an artist."

It felt so right to have her hands on him in some way. Even the slightest touch from her had his skin aflame and his blood pumping with delicious heat. He longed for what she could give him; and it seemed she was willing…but he had been deceived once before and he had no intentions of being deceived again.

"I am both." He responded suddenly, his eyes straight ahead and his body tense.

Erik was weary of keeping his love of music a secret. He needed to tell someone…to let someone in; that someone was Christine.

Christine sensed that his love of music had been kept a secret and the energy it had taken to keep it that way was tearing at him every day. She knew about his artist inclinations; the paintings in his hidden room was testimony to that…but she did not know he was a musician.

"Tell me, Erik…I want to know."

Now, the question was...

"Where do I begin?"

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

I wish to take a moment to let you know that my first grandchild made her entrance into the world on November 18. She weighed 5 pounds, 11 ounces and was 18 inches long. She is about five weeks early, and they have her at Duke University in the Children's Intensive Care Unit. She is getting treatments for her lungs and getting antibiotics to keep infection out of her lungs and heart.

For those of you who are praying ladies of faith, and trust and follow God, the Three in One; I solicit your prayers for Trinity Beth. She is a true angel on earth. Pray for her mother and father, my 20-year-old son and his wife of 18. I cannot imagine the trembling she feels in within her, as she has not even been able to hold her.

God bless each of you this Thanksgiving and throughout the coming New Year.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 19 – A Stitch in Time

Time seemed to stand still as they sat there in the quiet of the afternoon breeze. The leaves on the trees jostled back and forth playfully, and somewhere nearby water babbled as it trickled over smooth rocks and eased the tenseness in the air.

Christine waited for Erik to say something; watching as he leaned back against the trunk of the tree, lost in thought. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his booted feet were crossed. Elegant, long-fingered hands were folded perfectly in his lap and he appeared to be on the verge of closing his eyes in rest.

"Looking back, I do not remember a time when I felt like I belonged. There was always something with my parents that seemed off."

Erik determined that if he could just start, he would be fine. He had no idea why the prospect of sharing his memories with someone petrified him, but it did. No one had ever seemed to care before, and he had hardly been willing to break into conversation with a complete stranger.

"A couple of hours ago, Wesley told me that I was not the son of Victoria Worthington; but that my mother was a Scottish nanny that she had hired to care for my brother when he was very young." Erik smirked again, still not believing the story – not fully, "Raelin Brechin was her name and my father had an affair with her; an affair that resulted in my conception."

Having not known his parents, this information did not waylay her as it probably had done to him. The tiny picture she had seen in his room seemed to testify to the truth about his origins, though. He had nothing in common – at least as far as his looks were concerned – with his father or his mother; and he had shared nothing in common with his brother, either.

"I was close to my brother, he seemed to sense that I was not completely loved like he was, and he tried to make up for it in his own way. He was seven years older than me and yet, he shared as much time with me as he could."

There was a desperate grieving in his voice that pierced Christine heart; he had loved his brother deeply. Christine got the impression that there was a tragic loss behind the stabbing pain in his eyes; a loss from which he had never recovered.

"When he was eighteen and I was eleven, we went fox hunting with our father." a shadow of a smile curled the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained basked in sadness. "I was too small to use the large shotgun my father had given me and Andrew insisted that he use it instead."

He paused, allowing a single tear to tarnish the perfection of his left cheek.

"It was my first hunt and father put me on Andrew's horse because he was less likely to get spooked and because I was not a seasoned rider. Andrew was eighteen, so father let him choose his horse."

Erik genuinely smiled this time, lighting his eyes and brushing the worry lines from his handsome features. He seemed lighter of spirit, although she knew this story had a tragic ending; maybe all he needed was to talk about it.

Christine realized how little she even noticed the scar on the side of his face; it was simply a part of him. She freely lifted her hand and swept the long strands of his hair away from his face; unbeknownst to him, he leaned into her touch.

"Lucy was there so he was being such a braggart…" Erik's smile faltered when he mentioned her name. Christine's forehead wrinkled with unasked questions, but she waited for him to continue, "…he chose Rampart, my father's latest acquisition.

"Rampart was wild and unpredictable, but father had bought him for me. He had not been broken completely and I was not allowed to ride him; but Andrew just took that as an invitation to strut his abilities in front of Lucy."

Christine touched his arm to stop his next words; she had to get some clarification.

"Lucy…your ex-wife…" he stared blankly as she asked, "…that Lucy?" She tried not to sound maligning, but she was more than curious.

"At the time, she was betrothed to Andrew and had been since she was six-years-old."

A strange feeling of premonition came over Christine; she closed her eyes and tried to calm the sudden race of her heart.

"I do not understand…why…"

"Rampart spooked when Andrew's shotgun went off and he was flung from the saddle…" Erik dropped his head and Christine could see the clinching movements of his throat as he struggled to form his words, "…he hit the ground at an awkward angle…his neck was broken; in the time it took for the shell to leave the barrel, Andrew was gone."

No words could assuage the swell of grief that Christine felt, nor the guilt and pain heard in Erik's tone. She moved closer to him and leaned her warmth against him; hoping to somehow lend her strength to him. His arm automatically went around her, cocooning her against his hard chest – and she suddenly felt sheltered from the world.

"Father went mad in his grief and he never recovered. Andrew was the promise of a future, the heir to my father's proud legacy of military prowess. Until that wretched day, my parents had been more than pleased to allow me my oddities: the music, the art…all of it - but after Andrew's death, everything changed.

"Father lived in a different world…one where Andrew was still alive and I did not exist. The times when he did not remember me were countered by the times he thought I was Andrew. My dreams no longer mattered and I became obsessed with being the man my father had wanted Andrew to be….I never had the opportunity to grieve for him."

Erik leaned forward, drew his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and clasped his hands together. His emotions played across his features without pause and Christine knew he was reliving the atrocities of his childhood in great detail. She could not bring herself to say anything, but she knew her presence and willingness to listen aided him in some way.

"From that point on, Lucy despised me. We had never been close; she was Andrews bride-to-be and five years my senior…but mother betrothed her to me with the blessing of her mother. I was only twelve at the time. Lucy blamed me for Andrew's death…, which was no surprise, for I blamed myself. She circumspectly destroyed my piano and violin, and found and destroyed a great deal of my music and art.

"I had started playing and composing at the age of four and my parents were stunned, thinking me some sort of freak. Victoria chided me constantly about it, but Father eventually accepted it and allowed me to study." He lifted his eyes to stare straight ahead, directly toward the setting sun. " Victoria took charge of my life once father was unable to function. She forced me into military service to feed my father's dreams and I became determined to be the son that would follow his example."

He paused and dropped his head down, resting his chin upon his knees. He felt drained of all his energy, but he knew it was important to escape the demons that been a part of him for years.

"That is why you have accomplished so much for such a young man…you were driven." Christine muttered, not really meaning for him to hear her, but not trying to hide her thoughts.

Erik snickered, unable to see himself as anything but a failure, "I do not know how much I have accomplished. I have known no peace since the early days of my adolescent years. I married a woman that despises me, simply to fulfill a promise that had been made to her by my brother and enforced by my mother; I managed to sire a child that I cannot be a father to because of my physical failures; and the list goes on. I do not think I have accomplished very much at all."

Simply to keep the peace, Christine made a noncommittal sound, but said nothing. Time would be the only thing that would change his opinion of himself, and she intended to be around to see it.

"That is the shortened version of my painful past, but I think you heard enough to form an opinion."

The sun sank low in the sky and the canvas was painted with the most stunning array of purples and blues. Christine felt peace and hope fill her heart and wanted to share the moment with Erik.

"It is a beautiful sunset, Erik; I do not remember ever seeing a more beautiful one." She panted, eager to make him see it through her eyes. He looked toward her with a strangled smile on his face, but quickly dropped his eyes.

Christine leaned toward him and lifted his chin with her finger, slamming her eyes with his. Erik was surprised to feel her lips touch his in a gentle invitation. He stiffened in shock, but quickly wrapped his arms around her, accepting her kiss.

She threaded her fingers through his hair as she melded him to her, caressing his soft, full lips with her own. She moaned softly, letting him know with an audible sign that she was more than ready to yield to him.

He tasted like ambrosia…just as she dreamed he would - the most forbidden of delights. His lips were intoxicatingly soft and he seemed resistant at first, but then he kissed her back with the same urgency and need she possessed. His eyes drifted shut, his arms came around her, and she knew he desired her in the same way she desired him.

Christine dared to smooth the surface of his lips with her tongue, bringing the kiss to an immediate halt. Erik pulled back from her with fire burning in the depths of his jade eyes; he cupped the back of her head with his hand and took control.

His lips descended toward her with a savage slowness that had her purring in his arms long before he claimed her mouth. He barely moved over her skin with his lips, skimming the surface of her cheek, and brushing his lips over her eyes.

"This is madness…what you do to me." He growled softly, still caressing her face as though memorizing every aspect of it with his lips. "Open to me, I must taste you."

He claimed her mouth, opening her lips with his tongue and finding hers eager to greet him. She thrust gently into him, meeting him stroke for stroke; feeding the flames that threatened to consume his self-control and unleash the ferocious beast that long had been caged within him. How could something be so gentle and yet invade every cognizant part of him?

His hand settled at the base of her head, the sensuous folds of her silky hair caressing his skin like the softest, purest petals of a rose. His thumb traced the line of her neck as he released her lips and trailed kisses along the gentle sway of her jaw and then nestled in the sensitive crux of her earlobe.

He felt her breathing accelerate and her hands fist in the material of his shirt. She clung to him as though her life depended on it – and he heard soft whimpers coming from her throat.

"You are so full of passion and need…you could drive a man to the brink of insanity this way…" his voice trailed off as he once again claimed the fullness of her mouth; kneading her lips with an expert touch. He gently suckled the bottom swell of her lip and hungrily grazed his teeth along the pulse in her neck before pulling back to rest his forehead against hers.

"What are we doing?" he growled, willing his staunch reasonability to return before he completely lost control.

"Whatever it is, I do not want to stop." Christine replied breathlessly, leaning into him once again.

He gently pushed her away from him and stood up, willing his body to forget the state of euphoria in which it seemed eager to remain. He stretched his tall frame and took a moment to realize the evening air had turned slightly cool and he could feel the dusk sinking upon them.

"I am willing to admit that there is something between us…something that terrifies me more than anything I have ever known…" he spoke into the air, but Christine knew he was talking to her, "…we cannot, however, allow ourselves to continue on in such a way; it is not proper."

Christine smiled knowingly, hearing the practical tone he was presenting to her. He was still thinking about her precious reputation and the condescending view that most people would have about their time together.

She stood and moved to stand behind him; she extended her neck to reach his ear and pressed her generous bosom into his back.

"If I was worried about what is proper, I would not be here with you…right now…like this."

With those words softly whispered into this ear, she reached for his hand and slowly led him back toward the manor.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Trinity is doing well, thank all of you for your prayers and well wishes. She is breathing on her own now, and everything seems to be functioning normally; so I rejoice with a thankful heart and give praise to God.

Sorry this chapter is a little late...lots going on.

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 20 – Where do We go from Here?

Wesley greeted them at the door, hiding an inquisitive smile, and trying to avoid eye contact with Christine. He had no idea that they had shared a kiss, but the flush in Christine's cheeks left enough evidence for him to draw his own conclusions.

"A messenger came for your sir, while you were…out." At the smile in Wesley's tone, Erik lifted his brow and gave a one-sided smirk. Wesley almost chuckled at the truth that had settled in his young master's eyes, but he held his amusement.

"Have you read it, Wesley, or do I still have some privacy in this house?" Erik teased.

"Well sir, knowing that you are unable to read such things, I took the liberty of …" Wesley stopped when Erik turned to directly stare at him; he chuckled and cleared his throat, "…no sir, I did not read it…I will wait for you to determine when you are ready to hear the contents and then I will read them to you."

Erik nodded and smiled sheepishly, "Good answer, Wesley; you were treading dangerously for a few moments, but you managed to rescue yourself."

He had not released Christine's hand as they entered the manor; knowing he was stamping his claim on her, and he was very much aware of her standing beside him. He could not help the feeling of warmth that spread through him as he thought about their shared moments. He highly doubted that he would get any sleep this night.

He turned to her and lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her wrist. He subconsciously rubbed his cheek against the soft flesh and smiled to himself. When he lifted his head, the deep flame in his eyes began another slow burn in Christine's core.

"Would you care to join me in the library for a cup of hot tea and some warm crumpets?"

Her question served to help him realize that he was quite famished, having eaten very little throughout the day.

"That sounds like a good idea; I will join you in a few minutes."

Erik had to gather his thoughts…he had never been in such a place before. A woman actually seemed interested in him…and not just interested in friendship, but something much more. He climbed the stairs and quickly entered his quarters.

He changed his clothes, slipping into plain breeches and a perfectly pressed white, button-up shirt. He just wanted to be comfortable; certain that Christine would not mind.

He could not keep from approaching the window and gently opening it. The night was beautiful, with stars shimmering down overhead and the moon casting its glowing gaze upon the earth. A soft, warm breeze caressed the sheer curtains that now decorated the windows, and its inviting touch brought a smile to Erik's face.

The truth was, he could not see the stars nor the moon, but he had seen them many times in the past – looking out over the endless, dancing water of the ocean. He was thankful that he had never taken any of those moments for granted – he had never thought them mundane or plain.

_What am I going to do?_ Erik asked himself. _She made it quite clear that she expects more than friendship…and is willing to explore the combustive sparks that are between us._ He swept his hand through his hair and searched for another tie with which to bind it. _What could she possibly see in me?_

He knew he should not be analyzing as he was, but this was a completely strange situation for him. Women had never had any interest in him…as far as he knew. Of course, in all fairness he had never been around very many members of the fairer sex.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, moving from the window to make his way toward the library. He would allow this to progress in whatever direction she willed it to go…he just prayed that his heart could survive the journey.

◄▼►

Christine had settled into a comfortable position on the divan after the tea and crumpets had been delivered. She had also asked for butter and marmalade; two things she knew Erik loved.

Erik was taking a little longer to join her than she would have thought, so she picked out another book to start reading and had just curled up when she saw him enter the room.

His hair was unbound and fanned over his shoulders like a cape – hanging to the middle of his back. It's inviting, dark length seemed to beckon to her and she longed to run her fingers through its softness. She had never thought long hair an attractive trait on a man…but Erik seemed immensely masculine with it.

He was dressed simply and yet elegantly, and her heart sped up at the sight of him. _My body certainly recognizes him as its soul mate; now, the only thing I have to do is convince him._

His kiss had more than sealed her fate and there was no going back for her. She had waited too long to be where she was and although there were some hurdles yet to remove, she felt they had crossed over a crucial bridge today.

He smiled as he felt her eyes on him and moved as though walking on air toward her.

"I apologize for taking so long, I get lost in thought at times." He sat down across from her, not wanting to appear too enchanted by the prospect of being near her. "The crumpets smell delicious; I wonder if Anne would be willing to bring some butter and marmalade for me?"

Her husky alto voice sounded more sultry than usual, causing a rush of anticipation to spread up his spine.

"I already had her bring some for you…I knew you liked butter and marmalade."

Erik had no idea why her remembering little things about him – like things he enjoyed – left him feeling funny inside. She was not making resisting her an easy task; not that he was putting a great deal of effort into it.

"Thank you." He murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"Would you like for me to make one ready for you?"

Erik had not considered having her prepare his crumpet, but he had no idea how to prepare it himself. He knew instinctively that she had started preparing it, even without his consent. It felt good, actually; knowing that she was doing it just to please him.

"You mentioned a conservatory earlier, but I have explored every inch of his manor and have not found a conservatory in any room." She considered telling him that she had found the hidden room in his quarters, but decided against it for the time being.

Actually, Erik was surprised he had mentioned his secret place. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but he had hoped she would not remember it. Now, he knew there was no denying it, and he was quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"It is not actually in the manor…it is on the grounds deep in the woods behind the gardens."

She smiled thankfully, remembering his midnight journey into the woods. Her thoughts had often wandered to the time she had watched him, fearing that he was meeting a woman for a clandestine affair. She had thought of numerous ways to follow him and find out for certain what he was doing, but she had always talked herself out of doing so.

"So that is what you were doing." She whispered in thought, forgetting that he had sensitive hearing.

"Excuse me?" He said; his brow wrinkled in a questioning scowl.

He did not look mad, but curious; and Christine knew it was time to confess her knowledge of his nocturnal trips into the woods.

"Not long after I started my position, I was unable to sleep one night and quietly followed you through the house after seeing you moving about. I watched your shadow walk out the door, through the gardens, and into the woods. It was very early in the morning…and I had the urge to follow you, but did not."

He did not say anything, but she could tell that the thought of her following him was disturbing to him.

"Perhaps I will take you there some time soon." He stated; choosing to accept her into his private world.

"I look forward to it." She replied.

Silence fell between them once again, and Erik heard her flipping the pages of a book. He listened to the soothing familiarity of the sound, remembering the feeling that reading had always given him. A fleeting moment of pain filtered across his features and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, making enough noise that he felt her eyes upon him.

"I used to love to read…I miss the escape it gave me."

She heard the loss in his tone, and realized how many losses he had experienced when his sight had disappeared. She had never considered his love of reading.

"What type of books do you enjoy?"

He shrugged his thick, broad shoulders and walked toward her. He eased himself back in his chair even more, and crossed his long legs. He laced his fingers together and placed them elegantly in his lap…not realizing how handsome he was.

"Anything about the sea, adventure, spy novels…that sort of thing."

"I could read to you, if you would not mind hearing my voice."

He gave her an odd look, and there was a peculiar sparkle in this eyes that made her blood boil; there was something distinctly sensual in the idea of reading to him.

"Your voice comforts me..." Erik admitted, shocked by the truth of his words.

For a moment, Christine was certain she forgot to breathe; he found her voice pleasing…that was one of the most innocuous things he could have said; and yet, it sent tantalizing shivers up her spine.

"…would you really read to me?"

_I would do anything for you._ Christine admitted to herself – not at all surprised by the conviction in her inner voice.

"Of course, Erik; reading to you would be a delight."

She closed her book and stood up; she moved toward the vast shelves of books and perused them with interest.

"There should be a brand new book over there called _Moby Dick _by Herman Melville. I had not owned it very long before this nightmare started and I was never able to read it."

Christine found the book to which he referred and pulled it from the shelf. She thumbed through the pages, curious about what a new book felt like, and then returned to the couch and sat down.

She had no more than sat down, when Wesley knocked upon the door and entered upon Erik's request.

"Do you wish to find out what the message says, sir?"

Erik had almost forgotten about the message Wesley had mentioned earlier. He nodded his head and sat forward in his seat, not knowing what to expect.

Wesley glanced over the message and stifled his smile as he cleared his throat and read:

**_"INVESTITURE AND ROYAL BALL_**

**Queen ****Victoria**** and ****Prince Albert**

**Request your presence**

**15 August,**

**In the Year of our Lord 1858**

**Royal Ballroom, ****Buckingham****Palace**

**1:00**** in the afternoon"**

At first, there was no response from Erik; he sat quietly and did not even twitch a muscle. Wesley glanced at Christine, sharing a look of complete loss with her, but then he tucked the message back in the envelope and stood straight – awaiting his master's instructions.

"She is never going to give up on me, I fear…" Erik finally said, "…I suppose I have to go this time."

He said it sardonically, but Christine heard the hopeful lilt in his voice. He had no desire to attend the ball, but had apparently not attended others and knew he had to show up at this one.

"You do not wish to go?" Christine asked, suddenly excited at the prospect of him attending such a prestigious event.

Erik scoffed loudly and stood up; he walked toward the windows and stood in front of them as though looking out over his vast domain.

"No, I do _not_ wish to go…I have been invited to three other of these soiree's and have attended none of them…" he sighed deeply and swept his hands through his hair – a nervous habit Christine realized he could not hide,"…but I suppose I have to attend this one whether I wish to or not."

"That would be best." Wesley murmured in agreement.

"Thank you, Wesley…that is all for the night." Erik stated, dismissing the older man with a friendly smile.

Wesley seemed stunned for a moment; it was only eight o'clock in the evening. He waited for Erik to rescind his offer, but when it did not come, he exited the room without further thought.

"We shall begin _Moby Dick_ tomorrow night; I must retire early this evening." He stood up and Christine noticed his steps seemed slightly heavy and unsure.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked as he put his hand to his head and rubbed it roughly.

A strained smile covered his features, but Christine knew he was hurting.

"I am fine…just a headache…" Erik responded, trying to sound unaffected, "…I need to sleep it off."

Christine instinctively put her hand to his forehead, half expecting to find him suffering from a fever; but he was not. He involuntarily leaned into her hand and her heart leapt for joy at the touch of him.

"Then rest…I will watch over you." Christine promised.

Erik smiled and put his hand to hers, "Are you my protector now?"

She reached up and placed a kiss upon his cheek, "Always."

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you for the reviews and encouragement. I am writing the chapters as I go now...as I have posted all the pre-written chapters that I had. I hope to keep up, but bare with me if I fall behind.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 21 - A Meeting of the Minds

Erik could not remember having ever had such a horrible headache. No matter how much effort he put into trying to sleep, he could not manage it. It probably did not help matters that his mind kept creating images of her in his arms and the wonderful way her soft, tall body had felt leaning against his hard frame.

What was he getting himself into? Could he actually trust her with his heart? There was some defense mechanism in his soul that kept him from fully yielding to her, and he had no idea why. Mind you, he was like any other man and definitely enjoyed the attention she was giving him, but could he keep his heart out of it?

Hours passed as he tossed and turned. He had sent Christine out of his room long ago, not feeling completely comfortable with her so near. Although she was a nurse, he had never relied on anyone else to be there for him, so he tended to turn inward when pain overwhelmed him.

Sometimes at night, he could still hear his mother's acidic tone accusing him of willingly causing his father's demise. She had done the best she could have, Erik determined, considering the circumstances; he was not sure a lesser woman would have even given a child like him a roof over his head. He had been a constant reminder to Victoria of her husband's infidelity.

Having given up on getting any more sleep, Erik rose early and dressed quickly. He did not really feel much better than when he had gone to bed the night before, but he had something he very much wanted to do before he allowed the pain to bring him down again.

It was time for a change; and Erik knew a way to make that happen. He had given it much thought through the night – brilliancy seemed to strike him most during the hours after midnight.

Wesley greeted him at the foot of the stairs, prepared to give his master whatever was needed to start his day out right. Erik gave him a strained smile; trying to disguise the pain that still bothered him.

"Wesley, I need a ride over to the Browning's home; I wish to discuss something with John and I will bring Gage home with me."

"Of course; would you be leaving now, or later this morning?" He asked.

Erik sat down at the table and immediately smelled the fresh pancakes that Anne had placed before him. He was famished, his headache having rid him of his appetite last night.

"Around ten o'clock…that should leave me plenty of time."

He pulled a bite of the delectable, fluffy cakes into his mouth and savored the flavor; he had forgotten how good they tasted.

Two hours later, he was knocking on the Browning's door. It was a rare thing for Erik to leave his manor, let alone visit with other people; he almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

It only took a few moments for John to answer the door, and he greeted Erik with an enthusiastic voice.

"Erik, what a surprise…did you miss Gage so much that you needed to come and get him early?"

Erik chuckled as he was ushered into the house by a leading hand upon his elbow.

"I need to talk to you about something and possibly use your expertise as a detective." Erik stated, taking a seat in the chair that was offered him. "I am prepared to pay you whatever you ask."

Despite the honor of a man with Erik's reputation and intelligence asking him for help, John noted the warning in Erik's voice. John could see the strain etched on his face and the years of dealing with whatever it was that was bothering him; it had been a long and hard battle so far.

"What can I do for you…you sound as though whatever it is has been a burden to you for some time?"

**"**For the past few years I have been at the mercy of a blackmail ploy orchestrated by my ex-wife and her lover. They are using an incident that never happened – at least not in the way they say it did – to get money out of me every month and allow me to keep Gage.

"They claim to have a witness that can attest to my actions on the night in question and at least one other person that will testify in agreement to this."

Erik lifted tortured eyes heavenward, praying that there was something John could do.

"If their story gets out, I could very well lose Gage forever…my reputation and good name do not matter compared to the reality of losing him."

John's interest was piqued, as well as his professional curiosity. He needed the work, and it seemed like a task he was very capable of handling.

"Tell me what happened that night, than we will put together some answers that will allow me to get this taken care of for you."

Erik sat back in this chair and absently rubbed his smooth chin. He briefly closed his eyes, than recited the events of that night ten years ago.

FLASHBACK

10 years ago, New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball, London, England

_"Mason, I am going to sit this one out and go have a drink in the lounge if I can find it…tell Lucy for me, will you?"_

_"Sure Erik…but do not be long, the young debutants are about to make their entrance." _

_Mason juggled his brows in a comical show of interest._

_"They are just children, Mason…how can you even consider courting one of them?" Erik said, disgust covering his face._

_Mason scoffed loudly and briskly swatted his friend on the arm. "They may be children by your standards, my prudish friend; but they are fair game in my eyes; you should try it."_

_Erik just could not understand the fascination most of his shipmates had with the young girls; to him, it bordered on repulsive._

_"There is nothing like plucking the ripeness out of them before papa marries them off to some boring, horse-faced aristocrat."_

_Despite his unease with the subject, Erik laughed._

_"You know I am with Lucy…so why do you push?"_

_Mason rolled his eyes and did a mock impression of Lucy's signature curtsy; arms flared out behind him like wings and his head bowed low, almost uncomfortably, toward his lap._

_"Oh yes, how could I forget the cold, sobering woman that is your Lucy? _

_Erik immediately set out to defend her – having no idea why. What Mason said was the truth; there was something unhinged within her – something malevolent. Her tongue was vile and wicked when hurling insults at people – not caring who they were. She had been this way since Andrew's death…and Erik could not bring himself to hate her - even though she treated him with nothing less than contempt._

_Her beauty was unmatched – that was the one redeeming quality she possessed and the sole reason for her popularity. His mother had latched onto her coldness like a parasite – she must have recognized her own kind._

_His mother's words of a few months ago still rang like bells in his ears, "You will marry Lucy Templeton, and I will hear no more about it. Her family is one of the most respected in all of __London__ – you should feel lucky that they are even willing to take you after my Andrew's untimely demise – you are not worthy to walk in his footsteps."_

_Lucky was not an emotion he felt when contemplating marriage to Lucy; but it was his duty as the only remaining heir. His dear father was dead; leaving behind his mother whose single purpose in life seemed to be driving Erik into his own personal hell and the estate into debt._

_"I cannot believe you are going to marry her." Mason stated with a sour note in his voice._

_"It is my duty to my family name." Erik retorted._

_Mason pulled away from his friend to sweep another young woman into his arms for a dance._

_"I am so glad I do not suffer from the same sickness you do, my friend; the innate need to be unbearably honorable."_

_Erik walked away shaking his head. Mason had a reputation for being a rake – a status Erik did not want. It seemed so many of the young men entering the Royal Navy had such a problem._

_He made his way down the large, fully carpeted, deep crimson hallway to the room at the end; assuring himself that it was the lounge. He needed a drink -something in which he seldom indulged - to settle his nerves; his conversation with Mason had disturbed him…on many levels. _

_The room was large and dark, the only real source of light being the sparking fire that danced in the large fireplace in the center of the far wall. The bar was nowhere to be found, and Erik began to feel as though he had the wrong room. He did not care; instead, he planted himself in the soft, plush divan and stared into the fire._

_His thoughts drifted back to Lucy; there was as much passion in her as there was a cold piece of meat; his mother certainly knew what she was doing. His life had been forfeit since Andrew had died; he would never be worth her love or affection. Perhaps by marrying Lucy and producing an heir, he would at last earn his place in his mother's ice-chiseled heart. _

_The sole purpose behind the union was the producing an heir. Erik silently scoffed - what a joke…Lucy barely let him kiss her. She was as responsive as a dead fish in his arms and he doubted that marrying her was going to make things any better._

_In the glowing light of the fire, Erik threw back the memories and depressing thoughts. He intended to wait out the party here; he had no desire to go back…there was no party left in him._

_The large door opened with an eerie creek, and Erik could not see the person that entered. They remained against the wall, shrouded in the shadows, not saying a word._

_"May I help you?"_

_The figure moved with stealth elegance and soft confidence – and the curves were definitely female. He could not discern what she was wearing from the soft velvet black of the room, but her walk was distinctly female – prowling, hungry female._

_"I am sorry young lady, but you must be in the wrong room."_

_His inquiring words received no response…but she continued to move slowly toward him – moving like a she-cat in search of her next victim. He could not see her face, but the closer she came to him, he could see the outline of her body – whatever she wore hugged her curves like a glove and he felt his body swell in response._

_He bit back a verbal curse; berating his lack of control. What was wrong with him; Lucy never affected him this way? In fact, she left him shivering and empty inside, her eyes reflecting the bone-chilling contents of her soul._

_Her face was still a mystery – as was her name – but somehow, revealing either of those things would strip the magic from the moment. He could not remember seeing such a woman in the crowd that had gathered for the ball, so he thought her an unwelcome attendee or part of the staff._

_The unknown woman stood directly in front of him and he could not resist the need to touch the glimmering glow of her skin. He lifted his hand to her cheek and marveled when she leaned into his touch as though she had been waiting for it all her life._

_She was fire in his hands…hot and ready to melt the cold from his heart. Erik marveled at her response to his touch – a response he longed to counter with more caresses._

_He had removed his dinner jacket and cravat, and all that remained was his vest and shirt. She splayed her hands across the hard surface of his chest – quickly dispensing the vest with efficiency; pushing it from his broad shoulders. He stood before her – hard and panting – eager for whatever she had in mind._

_She touched him through the expensive material of the shirt, sending a shiver of desire through him that he had never felt before. Her long, deft fingers found his taut nipples and circled them with a finesse that should have shocked or repulsed him, but did not. He hissed in his breath while pulling her closer to him. _

_He could see the sparkle of her eyes in the dim lighting – they were only a fraction from his and he knew she was close…so very close. He could not make out their color, but he knew he would be lost in their depths if he allowed himself to be._

_"You cannot be Lucy…you are too tall…" he murmured, feeling the desirous pull of her wiles. He touched her then; ran his hands up the swell of her hips and rested them in the distinct impression of her waist, "…and you have womanly curves that she does not."_

_She held him to her with the silky cords of her arms and nuzzled the lobe of his ear with her cheek; he did not remember moving, but somehow she had him backed against the appliquéd wall – completely cast under her spell._

_She fit so perfectly against him, all legs and the long neck of a swan. Her skin was like silk against the rough surface of his hand and he found himself entranced with every aspect of her that he could decipher._

_It did not take long for him to realize that she wore breeches…a fact he found arousing, for some bizarre reason. His hands found the stimulating curve of her waist against the graceful swell of her hips, and he pulled her harder against his straining body._

_He could have sworn he heard her purr as he grasped the generous scope of her backside and forced it more thoroughly against his hardened, erect body._

_"Who are you…" Erik moaned, "…and why are you doing this to me?" _

_A soft, humming, evocative sound filled his ears and he realized she had chuckled at his words. The beauty of it had his already burgeoning erection throbbing more insistently against the constraining barrier of his pants._

_"I am whoever you wish me to be." She whispered back, her voice as much a mystery as the rest of her._

_She continued to nuzzle his ear, but she became bolder in her actions. Her sweet, honeyed tongue tasted him and she felt him bolt beneath her. His deep, resonating moan made her own body react in ways she had only heard about in the dark alley behind where she worked. She did not care that she was probably acting brazen – she had never had any thoughts of being a lady. If being a lady meant acting and whining like her mother – she wanted no part of it._

_This was Erik in her arms – a man she had desired for months – ever since she had seen him with Lucy; he was the only man she would ever love. _

_Lucy._

_The very name hardened her heart; she was a wicked, conniving woman with no purpose in life; except to make others miserable. _

_"Erik…" he had heard her – his name was a prayer upon her lips, "…kiss me."_

_She dared to whisper, giving him no hint within her voice that would allow him to know who she was. She feathered kisses along his jaw and down the sensuous bend of his neck before drawing her tongue along the ridge of his full, inviting lips._

_He swallowed, barely containing the animal that threatened to take advantage of every enticing thing she offered. Was she innocently pursuing him or was she a seductress with honed skills on getting a man to do her bidding? The pull of her lips and tongue was too much and Erik dipped his head to meet her persuasive, tempting mouth._

_The searing touch of her lips to his was far more disturbing than he would have imagined. He was lost within her sinewy, sensual web and he could not fathom ever wanting to be free of it._

_The kiss rocked his world – leaving him unbalanced and wanting more – wanting all that she could give him. Her tongue snaked around his and he answered her call, wrapping his around hers with a skill he did not remember possessing until this moment._

_He fanned his fingers through the heavy fall of her hair; he could not see it, but its silken tresses caressed him as sensuously as her tongue did. His hand held her head as he insisted she open more to him; he plunged into her hot mouth, devouring her taste and possessing her completely._

_She knew there would never be another…but she could not have him; he would never forget her – of that she would be certain. She answered his bidding tongue with a fervent passion she had held within her, even at her young age she knew more about life than most people did who were far older than she was. More than that, she knew this man – she had studied him for months._

_She gave him everything she had in that kiss…knowing he would feel it gently pour into him. How she longed to give him all of her if it would bind him to her for eternity, but he belonged to another and he was above her on every level…it could not be._

_"Who are you?" he breathed again, as they surfaced for air._

_"Just kiss me again." She whispered…_

END FLASHBACK

"I kissed her again, but then she just disappeared while I was still reeling from her seductive actions…I never saw her again."

John considered all the details Erik had given him, and knew he could get to the bottom of the whole thing.

"Where is this Mason now…do you know?"

"His family's estate is several miles from here; he left military service to marry and has taken over the family shipping business."

John stood up and placed a sure hand upon Erik's shoulder, "I will take care of this for you…no problem. All I ask of you is for your backing as I try to start my own private investigator practice."

Erik nodded and sketched a genuine smile, "Of course, you will have all that you need and I would very much like to be involved when I can be."

John chuckled and agreed, "I can always use a man of your intelligence to help me sort through evidence and draw conclusions."

They shook hands and John immediately began drawing up a list of things he needed to do and people he needed to see.

"Were there any other key figures that night…anyone you can think of that would have a reason to hate you or want to see you fail?"

Erik wrinkled his brow in thought, but then shook his head. "There were many there from the university and I had graduated top in my class…but I never heard anything from any of them."

At least it was a start.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

This chapter is a major turning point in the lives of our two main characters.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 22 – Where Dreams End and Life Begins

After Erik and Gage left, John began compiling as much information as he could. There had been no time limit placed on him, but he assured Erik that he would have some answers in a couple of weeks.

"I told him that it sounded very similar to some other cases I worked in Maryland before we left; he is paying for all my expenses and will help me set up a small business as a private detective."

John was sharing the news with Katherine and he was eager to have her be a part of it.

Katherine poured the tea and sat down beside him. The kids were upstairs playing and the house was almost quiet. She snuggled close to him, curled her legs up on the divan, and rested her head on his shoulder.

John wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead; he rested his head upon hers and sat contentedly for a few minutes, listening to the mantle clock tick monotonously.

"For some reason, even though we just met him, I trust him…does that seem presumptuous to you?"

Katherine considered his question for a few moments, but finally leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon his neck.

"No, it does not…I would have to say that I have the same impression." She rested her hand upon his thigh and absently stroked the area, making John very much aware of her touch. "I think he will be a good business partner…and you know I have a knack for knowing these things."

John turned toward her, bringing her into the crux of his thighs. She leaned her back against his chest and practically purred against him. He nuzzled her ear, sending delightful shivers up her spine.

"I would very much like for you to be my bookkeeper and secretary…" he whispered into her ear while tracing the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue, "…I asked Erik what he thought about this and he thought it sounded like a splendid idea."

He tilted her chin with the soft pressure of his finger and slid his mouth over hers with an ease born of familiar passion. They shared a few blissful moments of morning delight before the children came rushing toward them; arguing loudly about ownership of a certain toy.

They looked at each other with longing as they moved to opposite ends of the divan and tried to diplomatically sort through the details and make a rational decision; however, through the course of doing this, they ended up laughing at the absurdity of it all.

…just another day in paradise.

◄▼►

His headaches were getting more frequent and the pain more intense…but it was a few days after his visit with John that Erik began noticing shadowed images when he opened his eyes; as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

It seemed the images were destined to cost him dearly, for he closed himself off from the world and spent the next two days in solitude – wracked with sharp pains shooting through his head and into his eyes. He told no one about the slight change in his eyesight, fearing bringing unwarranted hope to any of them; and after hours of battling the pain, he finally drifted to sleep.

Christine stood vigilance outside his quarters for hours, not hearing much, but catching a muffled moan every now and then. She reached for the doorknob on several occasions, meaning to open the door; but her common sense told her to leave him be.

It was mid-afternoon when she could ignore his pain no longer, and opened the door quietly and moved inside the bright room. The curtains were open, allowing the sun to bathe the bed in its warm rays, casting light upon his slumbering figure.

He was deep in sleep, his mind burrowed firmly into a dream…but his face was etched with pain. He mumbled and jerked; the images in his mind as real to him as he was to her.

The drapes swayed in the summer breeze, moving playfully against each other in an oddly sensual manner. She looked from the window to the bed, thinking it looked inviting and comfortable; and approached the figure that fitfully tossed and turned upon the bed's silk sheets.

"Erik…are you awake?"

He was twisted in the sheets as they splayed across his nude body, covering all of the essential areas, but leaving Christine with a burning desire to see what treasure were hidden from her.

His moans were tortured, his pain evident; and Christine gingerly lowered herself toward him, drinking in the span of his chest and the light dusting of dark hair that tempted her sorely.

He mumbled more loudly, his thoughts lost on the high seas as his body and mind tried to escape the pain…

_The sea air had felt like home to him for years; after all, home should always be the place where you feel most secure and happy. Its tender, playful fingers lifted his hair and they danced together for as long as the breeze dared to remain._

_Here, among his noble and loyal men, Erik could escape the demands of __Worthington__ Manor. How he had dreamed of having a wife whom he could not wait to come home to, one who would welcome him into her arms and ease the aches and pains that prematurely and temporarily hindered his strong body._

_Lucy…the cold places in his heart belonged to her; she had demanded them - her image haunted him day in and day out. He could forgive her for her infidelity, if only she would share his bed on occasion…but the one time she had allowed him near her, she had done nothing but lay there and take his "abuse", as she called it. _

_That had been only days ago._

_He had pulled away before finding any sort of pleasure and would never touch her again. He had never made love to a woman before, but he knew what passion was; and Lucy did not possess it – not for him._

_Now, he was back on board his precious Phantom, surrounded by his crew, and breathing in the fresh air that always seemed to invigorate him._

_They laughed and carried on about his horrid state of affairs, all of them aware of his forced marriage and the evil beauty that was his Lucy…they knew what he needed._

Christine wearily approached him, he was barking orders to a crew she could not see, and she realized he was dreaming; but his features were agonized – his deft fingers working his temples as though trying to force some invisible remedy through them.

"Erik….let me help you." Christine whispered, leaning closer to him.

_Was that Eli? Surely not, the wind must be distorting the sound of his voice…for a moment he sounded like a woman._

"Erik…wake up."

_There it was again…_

"Erik…"

_"Eli, you sly devil – you did it even after I told you not to."_

Christine startled when he spoke, realizing he thought she was someone else.

_Erik spoke to his first mate, smiling broadly, as he realized what he had done. _

_"I appreciate the gesture…really I do…but I…"_

_He picked up her scent on the air and the words just would not come out. There was something familiar about it…inviting and infectious…how odd._

Christine leaned over him, examining the worry lines that creased his forehead and the beads of sweat that trailed down his face. The fact that he was nude did not make things easier, as she kept having to stop herself from exploring his body with her hungry eyes.

His chest was exquisite – for lack of a better word – a picture of true male perfection. His muscles seemed tense and bulging; a distraction that Christine did not mind at all.

She tentatively reached her hand out and caressed his pain riddled face, knowing he needed to awaken from his dream, find relief for his pain, and possibly get some more productive rest.

_She was touching him…this angel of mercy…he whisked her beneath him, feeling her soft, willing body mold against his. She was tall, pressing against him provocatively from head to toe; it was rare to find a woman that actually matched him, being rather tall himself._

_She trembled slightly, giving Erik the sudden urge to protect her; which he could not fathom – she was a harlot, after all - and should be used to such things._

Christine realized that he was enacting his dream, locked within his own world. When he had pulled her beneath him, she had not even panicked, knowing he would not hurt her. She closed her eyes as he eased her dress up her thighs and his hand made contact with her warm flesh.

_"No worries, Angel…I will not hurt you." _He assured her in a low, masculine purr that had her melting inside.

It seemed that if she pushed against him, he just wrapped himself more around her; if she squirmed any more than she had already, she might find herself with more knowledge of his body than she could handle. As it was, she could feel every inch of his hard, hot, fully nude body against her, and there was no denying her attraction to him…but he still had no idea who she was.

_"Remind me to thank Eli…I have never had a woman feel so right in my arms."_

_No, that was not entirely true…it had just been a while. He felt her tremble again, and a thought struck him…one that made the night even more enticing to him; she was a virgin – how remarkable – he would be her first._

His throbbing desire rubbed against her thigh and Christine trembled once again; it felt so good to be in this intimate place with him, even though she knew it was wrong.

He chuckled desirously, but his silky voice eased her misguided fear.

_"Easy love…I said I would not hurt you…by the time you become more familiar with that part of my anatomy…you will be begging me to take you…"_

Everything he said, and every move he made with his optimal body, seduced her. Christine clamped her mouth shut, not revealing who she was for fear that he would recoil from her…and heaven knew she needed him….the things he did to her with just a simple touch.

She closed her eyes as a wave of desire swept over her…he had buried his nose in her neck and was nuzzling the soft flesh with his nose and lips.

_"I will be your first, no doubt, the way you are reacting to my touch…" _ _He breathed in her scent and ran his warm tongue over the curve of her neck. "What a gift you give me."_

_His hand delved into the softness of her hair, he relished it with his fingers and again took possession of her neck…kissing and nibbling the flesh like it was a piece of delectable fruit._

_He breathed her in, cherishing the smell that was all woman; she was yielding and willing beneath him and all Erik could think about was the sweet rest he could find in her body…with her wrapped around him in a sanctuary of passion._

_His hips ground into her and the hard proof of his arousal made her moan against him; she meant his demanding hips with a lift of her body, bringing him against the warmth of her core._

_"Do that again, Love; and you will find yourself on your knees in front of me before either of us is ready…."_ _He growled, bringing a fist full of her hair to his nose and breathing in deeply, "…lord, but you smell good."_

_This cannot be real…he has no idea what he is doing…_ Christine closed her eyes at the sensations that were shooting through her _…it feels so good to be near him like this…so good to feel desired._

_Although his eyes did not see her, he committed her to memory…the way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she breathed at any given moment and responded to the various ways he touched her._

_His lips made contact with the patch of skin above her collarbone and the silky feel of them against her made her tremble from head to toe. His tongue traced the soft, delicate line and then trailed up the curve of her neck until he found her ear. _

_He was growling softly as he traced the contour of her ear with his tongue, and then pulled the lobe between his teeth and nibbled delightfully upon it._

_"Woman…you taste as good as you smell." He finally murmured, once again tracing the line of her jaw, "Even before I take you…you are worth every shilling…"_

_He lingered there and tunneled his fingers into the soft, heavy folds of her hair…it was as soft as the petals of a rose and Erik felt its heaviness upon his hands…he could see it in his mind…fanned out over the pillow like a waterfall._

_His mouth finally claimed hers in a sweet, seducing savagery that had her squirming beneath him. She was milk and honey, and fire and ice; all wonderfully wrapped up together in this heavenly creature that cared not what he looked like nor whom he was._

_Erik felt the unfamiliar swell of his body and the current of energy that filled him with a need he had only felt once before in his life…long ago…_

The kiss drove her past the point of no return…she knew she was lost in him - gladly lost in him. He demanded, she gave…meeting the thrust of his tongue as he broke the barrier and sank deep within her.

He groaned loudly as she fanned his loose hair through her fingers, allowing his dark mane to fall over his shoulders and mix with her pearly tresses. She drove her fingers through it again, reveling in the softness of it and the masculine scent that clung to its luscious strands.

She gloried in the taste of him; all man and myth, all power and vulnerability…strength and softness. She cradled his face in her hands as she poured herself into him…every fear she had ever had simply disappeared as she felt incredibly at home in his kiss.

Two amazing things happened next…the door opened without resistance and Anne strode in carrying his afternoon tea; and Christine realized that in the place he was in his dream, she was a virginal strumpet sent by the men under his command to seduce him.

Anne stood in shocked horror as she witnessed Christine push Erik off her and scramble from the bed in a mad rush to gather her thoughts and calm the storm that was pounding her body with desire.

Suddenly jolted from the confines of his dream and the heavy pull of the Scotch he had consumed, Erik bolted upright in the bed; confusion and disorientation showing rampantly on his face.

Christine faced him with hot tears rolling down her face as Anne quickly placed the tea on the side table and came toward her. The older woman wrapped Christine in her motherly embrace and fixed a scathing stare upon Erik.

"Worth every shilling…how dare you!" she shouted, angry more with herself than anything. It had taken a few moments for his words to sink in, but she would not have him thinking that of her; even if the comment was fed by his dream.

"Christine?" He stated questioningly; his head still swarming with pain. He dared not open his eyes, as the nausea was already threatening to overcome him. "What is wrong?" He asked…wondering why his body was as hard as a stone and his heart was racing.

"Erik…I demand to know what is going on here." Anne stated, with a chilling tone in her voice.

Anne's condescending tone shot through him like a lightening bolt. He sat there, completely speechless, wondering the same thing himself. He searched his memory for any hint that would conjure up a satisfactory answer…and then he remembered his dream.

He managed to curb the panic that suddenly slammed into him. What had he done? Christine had pushed him off of her…he had been enjoying the curves of a woman beneath his heated and demanding body…he must have…

He buried his head in his hands, knowing he had committed a horrible atrocity upon her. He could not bear to think about what could have happened had Anne not walked in on them and Christine had not pushed him away.

"Please leave me…I am so sorry." He whispered, trying to bring his body under control before he had to face Anne's inquisition. His mind was clouded, but he must have almost done the unthinkable.

Wesley had arrived at the door by this time and was quite aware of what had happened. He shot a look of complete disbelief in Erik's direction and then nodded consolingly toward Christine.

"Oh, dear Lord…" he pleaded to himself, as tears of shame and humiliation filled his eyes, "…I almost raped her…I truly am the beast that Lucy named me."

His wretched body was still aflame with burning desire, and he could still feel her beneath him…he could still smell her on his sheets.

"Just leave…" he groaned harshly and then seemed to regret his tone, "…before I lose control again."

He finally opened his eyes and allowed the swimming sensation to fill his head. Shadowed images in a gray haze filled his eyes and he slammed them shut from the stabbing pain that accompanied the images.

Anne and Wesley pulled at Christine to get her out of the room…they had to sort things out and see what damage had been done. Christine, easily putting her embarrassment aside, immediately became concerned with the look of agonizing pain on Erik's face. She knew it was far more than his own shame…he was hurting.

"Let me go, I need to be with him." Her voice was demure and low, but full of concern and genuine affection.

Anne scowled, but the love she saw shining in the young woman's eyes told her everything she needed to know. She nodded her head, silently telling Wesley to release the hold he had on her arm.

"This is not a good idea Christine…the whole staff is aware of what has transpired here today."

Anne's meaning was quite clear and Christine knew there would be consequences to deal with later, but right now, she needed to be with Erik.

Erik sat perched on the side of the bed, rocking back and forth with his head cradled in his hands. He heard nothing that was said around him, his pain and his shame were a barrier from the outside world.

His chest ached as much as his head did…it ached because of the pain and humiliation he had no doubt caused Christine, a woman who had been nothing but kind to him. He felt the nausea riding up his chest and he knew he was going to be sick; he stood abruptly, stumbling slightly from the pain in his head, and quickly made his way toward the water closet.

Christine was by his side in an instant; her hand upon his back as he wretched the contents of his stomach into the cold porcelain. He regained his strength long enough to pull away from her with shame on his face.

"Erik…." her pleading tone penetrated the chill of the small chamber.

"Do not even look at me…how can you bear the sight of me after what I almost did to you?"

It tore her heart to pieces to see him acting as though he was the worst man on earth. She moved closer to him, having wet a small washcloth, and placed it to his forehead; he immediately retreated from her again.

"Erik…you need someone to care for you…let me help you."

His shoulders slumped forward and he rested his forehead against the hard, cold wall – giving the impression of a man who had lost the final battle with a strong and worthy adversary.

He made the mistake of opening his eyes and turning his head toward her; the light from the gas lamp landed on his eyes, shooting a piercing energy of light through his eyes and into his brain. The pain was excruciating and he landed face down on the floor, the pain knocking him unconscious.

"Wesley!" Christine screamed, kneeling beside Erik's prostrate form. "Help me!"

Wesley wasted no time in rushing to her side, and the sight before him caused his stomach to rise into his chest.

"Help me get him to the bed…I do not know what is wrong!"

She had never felt so helpless in her life. All she wanted to do, was take all of his pain away and get lost inside him, but she had no idea what was causing his pain.

"We cannot lift him, Christine…I will get Myron to help us."

Wesley ran out of the room and down the stairs to retrieve the large footman. In what seemed like only moments, they were back and lifting Erik into their strong arms. Christine straightened the sheets and fluffed his pillow before they rested him upon the bed.

She looked up to see Gage standing just inside the door, with a look of panic in his bright green eyes. She put her hand out to him and he ran into her arms; his eyes never leaving the long, sleeping form of his father.

"What is wrong with Papa?" He whispered, thinking Erik was just asleep.

Christine hugged him firmly and knelt down beside him. "I am not sure Sweetie; I am going to stay by his side and I have sent Myron to town to get the doctor. Hopefully, we will know something soon."

She turned her attention to the man she was hopelessly in love with and tried to smile, hoping to bring Gage a bit of encouragement. She sat down on the bed and pulled Gage into her lap. They sat silently for about twenty minutes, just watching him breathe.

He jerked slightly, causing a few strands of hair to fall over his forehead. Christine brushed her fingers lightly over the smooth surface of his forehead, moving the hair and then skimmed them over the roughness covering his cheek; he stirred beneath her touch and turned over onto his side.

He placed his hand slowly over his eyes; and sat up. Once they were shielded from whatever light was in the room, he slowly opened them. The pain was not so intense and he could make out the shadowed image of his hand.

A knock sounded on the door; Dr. Sanderson, the man who had been diligently trying to learn more about Erik's condition, walked into the room with the confidence of a man who knew his purpose in life. He studied Erik's eyes with a strange looking contraption, jotted down a few notes in a small book, and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Erik…explain to me what is going on."

Although his heart still ached from his repulsive actions of earlier, he spoke with a definite tone when answering. He lifted his head, although his eyes remained shut.

"Things have been changing for about two weeks now…the headaches have become more frequent and more intense – especially when my eyes open suddenly and I am flooded with images and what I can only assume is light."

The doctor furrowed his brow, but a slight smile touched his hard lips. "You are beginning to see things…" he tapped his fingers against his thigh absently, "…describe what you see."

Erik opened his eyes very slowly, trying to avoid getting sick again. He squinted slightly, but kept them open. "I cannot make out objects or faces… all I see are silhouettes of things – outlines really….but they are becoming more distinct in their shape."

"Two weeks, you say?" Dr. Sanderson repeated; a thoughtful look upon his stern face.

Erik shook his head and dropped his eyes.

"You suffered a fall about two weeks ago…is that not correct?"

Erik scoffed, remembering the injuries he had sustained, "The fall was the least of my worries."

"Did you hit the back of your head against anything when you went down?"

Dr. Sanderson had barely noticed Christine or Gage, having briefly given Christine a nod when he entered; but he turned to her for answers when Erik had none.

"Did he?"

"He did have a large bump on the back of his head…" Christine admitted, her eyes filling with tears, "…I thought nothing of it when I saw his other injuries."

The doctor ignored her tears, thinking her an overly emotional female for whom he had little time. He apparently had low tolerance for sappy women and judging by the looks he was giving Gage, even less for children; he had no idea how unattractive that made him.

"The hit upon your head probably jolted something inside your head enough to put back in place what had been jarred in the attack three years ago."

Dr. Sanderson finally smiled, relieving the austere professionalism that was beginning to annoy Christine. He put a firm hand on Erik's shoulder and captured his attention.

"I really cannot tell you what is going on, Erik; this is an area of study that I am devoting a great deal of time to, but I have no answers."

Erik remained silent, his hands clenching the side of the bed and his lips set in a straight, unyielding line. To most people, it would seem as though he had not heard what was said, but Christine knew the unrelenting angle of his jaw meant he was holding back his comments.

"If his sight is returning, can you give us some idea as to how long it will take to be fully recovered?"

Christine decided to ask the question Erik would not; knowing that he thought often about regaining his sight. She understood his reluctance to allow hope to overshadow the reality in which he lived, but she also knew he desired it very much.

Dr. Sanderson gave a reserved grunt and shook his head. "I cannot guarantee he is regaining his sight or to what extent he is regaining it – if that is what is happening; but I _will_ give an educated hypothesis and say that I believe that is what is happening, at least in part."

He smiled again, and gathered up his things. "Take it very slowly, Erik; as you regain the use of your eyes and all those parts that make them work…the headaches may increase until your occipital nerves sustain the shock."

Erik nodded, unwilling to lift his eyes and allow anyone to see the resounding hope he knew was filling them.

"Thank you, Chad."

That was all he said; and he sent everyone out the door with the doctor.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 23 - Choices

Somehow she had avoided the entire lecture from Anne and Wesley…in fact, she went to bed that night without any interruptions at all.

Well…almost no interruptions; the fire that was racing through her body was an interruption she could deal with. She felt alive and more aroused than she had ever been in her life.

He had pressed against her…all the way against her. His long, lean, muscle-clad body had longingly reacted to her far more plush and less defined body in a way that she had never though possible…and he had made sure she felt it as he pulled her skirts up to her thighs! Just thinking about it made her nipples harden to excruciating peaks and her womanly core heat to the point of incineration.

She had heard of women who relieved themselves of such fire…but she had never dared to do such things in her private moments; somehow, the idea seemed lewd and unsavory. But, she had to admit that it had its attraction.

She wondered if Erik ever felt such driving need….the need to take matters into his own hands…so to speak. She smiled at the prospects of walking in on him doing such things…and she heated even more; until an ache developed in her loins, an ache that only he could satisfy…

…if only.

►▼◄

The next morning started with a quick visit from Dr. Sanderson. He handed Christine a pair of glasses for her to give Erik. The lenses were dark and would lend a measure of protection to Erik's eyes should he start seeing more than just shadows and bursts of light.

Last night had been torture…knowing he was hurting and not being able to go to him. The entire household staff seemed on edge about everything and all Christine wanted to do was wrap her arms around him. She was eager to be by his side again, but she knew he needed time alone. She understood that Anne and Wesley needed to talk to her about the events of earlier, but she did not desire to worry them about events that did not happen.

She tucked the glasses into a small drawer hidden in the foyer attaché and walked upstairs to Gage's room. The boy was building a fortress out of blocks and there was a carved dragon on the castle roof guarding the residents within. When he looked up and saw Christine, he ran to her, engulfing her skirt in a big hug.

"What is wrong with Papa?" he asked; his big, green eyes looking up at her with such innocence.

She sat down on the floor and pulled him into her lap, running her hand through his baby soft hair and adoring his Erik-like visage.

"His eyes and head are giving him quite a bit of pain, Gage…he may be getting his sight back."

Gage grinned and clapped his hands in delight, "That would be wonderful…how long is it going to take!?"

Christine giggled at his animated features and hugged him again, "I may take a very long time, or it could happen quickly…or it may not happen at all."

Gage rolled his bright eyes and pursed his lips, "Just tell me you do not know!"

He played with some of the silver strands of her hair, wrapping them around his fingers in the same way that Erik had done. He seemed fascinated by its color and softness. They spent the next hour just playing castle fortress, knights in shining armor, and damsel in distress.

"Nanny Christine…" Gage finally said in a questioning tone; she looked at him with concern on her face, "…I heard Mary and Violet talking about you yesterday…"

Christine cocked her head sideways and regarded him with all of her attention.

"…they said you were Papa's…" he wrinkled his nose to think of the word he had heard, "…trumpet."

Christine knew what he meant and she almost gasped when he said it. They were calling her a strumpet…a whore…behind her back and the worse thing about it was, that once Erik found out about it he would likely be angry enough to relieve some people of their jobs.

"What do they mean by that?"

What does one say to such accusations…especially when they are overheard by a six-year-old? She tried to ease his mind by playing the whole thing off as a game…something the household staff engaged in just to keep the day from becoming monotonous and overly long.

He seemed appeased for the time being, but she knew he would hear more of such gossip before the whole situation was blown completely out of context. She would have to address this issue with Erik…it could not continue.

She had managed to brush her concern aside and play with Gage; but they were interrupted by a knock on the door and a very satisfied looking Anne.

"Erik wants to see all of us in the drawing room."

◄▼►

They were all there…but Erik was not. It was a few more minutes before he came into the room looking dapper in his day suit with his hair combed perfectly and tied behind his neck.

He was not happy – of that, everyone was certain. The disappointment on his face made everyone in the room uneasy, even as he moved slowly forward with an elegance and determination that was unmatched by anyone Christine had ever known.

"I have heard some despairing things over the past few hours…things that have made me doubt my choices in household staff." He crossed his legs and drummed the fingers on both hands over the arms of the chair; his irritation and disappointment quite evident. "My actions were my own; unspeakable and atrocious as they were. What happened was not Miss Darcy's doing and if I hear one more derogatory word against her, I will immediately dismiss the fiend that dares mutter such things."

Christine stood in the corner of the room, stunned by his words. Did he honestly think that he had forced himself upon her? She had tried on numerous occasions last night to speak with him, but he had been behind locked doors with Wesley and Anne for most of the night.

"Do I make myself clear?"

Many of the staff looked chagrined and shamed; they uttered their apologies and clearly announced that they would be more mindful in the future.

"All of you get back to work…and be thankful you still have jobs." He slowly stood and listened at shuffled feet exited the room. "Christine, please remain here, I need to speak with you."

She came up to him and stood beside him, wanting so badly to touch him, but holding back on that desire. Everyone left, leaving her, Erik, and Anne.

"Anne, please sit down." He spoke in her general direction. He sat down on the divan and motioned for Christine to sit beside him, "Christine, you sit as well…please."

Sinking down in the soft folds of the divan, being so close to him…Christine felt panic welling up in her chest; what was he going to do?

"My actions of yesterday have escalated a problem that I have been blissfully unaware of for several years…." He reached for her hand, fearing she would withdraw from him, but feeling her reach for him instead, "…I am a dreadfully lonely man bound for a pitifully horrible life if I do not recognize the needs within me."

His head dropped in remorse before he continued.

"I make you two offers….and you must choose."

Anne caught Christine's panicked stare before she smiled with assuring ease, hoping this action would reduce the younger woman's trepidation.

"You may leave my employment without repercussions and I will send with you a letter of recommendation and enough money to sustain you until you find other employment. You may have all the clothing you have obtained while in my employ and I will expect you to visit Gage on a regular basis as he will no doubt be devastated by your departure."

She was shocked and horrified at the same time….leave….why would she want to do such a thing?

Wait…he had said two choices.

"…or…." She asked, fearing the next choice would be worse than the first.

He lifted his head, regret and pain showing deep in his wide-open eyes, "Or, I would ask that you accept my proposal of marriage."

She could not have been more shocked if someone had told her that her father had suddenly risen from the dead. Was this a sweet dream from which she had no desire to awaken?

The suggestion was bittersweet to her; the only reason he had offered was because her reputation and the public belief system demanded that he make things right. He was agonizing over his actions and felt that he would have to pay for them…one way or another.

"Marriage?" Her voice swelled with emotion as she tried to sound ambiguous. She rose up off the divan and walked several steps away from him.

His head lulled forward and he shook it gently…berating himself. "If that is the choice you make…than yes."

She was angry now; indignation rising as bitter bile in her throat; all she wanted to do was scream at the top of her lungs; proclaiming the injustice of it all.

"I would not want you to put yourself out, Mr. Worthington…by all means, protect your precious name."

Great…she was angry…not the reaction for which he had been hoping.

"It has nothing to do with my name, Christine….I cannot believe you would think that." He stood and faced her, his voice was low, but the deep strain of the last few hours was easily heard in each word. "I will not allow my staff or any other people to think ill thoughts of you when what happened was my fault."

Her smile was anything but pleasing, and the fact that he could not see it made her even angrier. She threw the heavy cascade of her hair over her shoulder and refrained from walking up and slapping him in the face.

"I was as much at fault as you were…I should have alerted you the minute you pulled me beneath you, but I did not…" with those words, she walked up to him and bathed him in her body heat, but did not touch him, "…what does that tell you?"

That had baffled him since he realized what had happened…why _did _she allow him to go as far as he did? He was suddenly very weary of the whole matter and wanted her decision.

"I just want to do the right thing." He murmured, completely ignoring her question.

All of the fight drained out of her at the look in his eyes. He felt as though he had no choice in the matter, much like he had had no choice with Lucy. She lifted her hand and caressed the angled curve of his cheek, and then ran her thumb along the fullness of his bottom lip.

"Do you not ever get tired of doing the honorable thing?" Christine whispered up at him.

He placed his hand over hers and leaned into her soft caress. There was a peaceful feeling in her touch; as though he were coming home from a long journey. He pulled her hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

"No…at the end of the day, I sleep much better knowing that I did the honorable thing."

For some reason, that made her smile; and the glow in her heart got warmer.

"If we marry, is this going to be a real marriage, or one of those that is just for show?"

"Real marriage…" what did that mean? Erik had no idea of the concept of "real marriage" - unless Wesley and Anne counted, "…it will be as real as you wish it." He finally stated, hoping she had some inkling as to what that entailed.

Christine smiled and said to herself, _That real._

He had no idea.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 24 - Making Sense of it All

He sat quietly in the study…enjoying the warmth of the fire. He could catch the dancing of the flames every now and then, as his eyes tried to focus; he knew he should have been happier about that development.

The joy he should have felt dissolved quickly in the dread that had settled in his heart. Could he really do it all over again…bring another woman into his life that did not love him? Would Christine end up despising him in the same way Lucy did?

They had….something…between them; that was apparent; but there was no way she could feel anything past a physical attraction to him; in fact, he had no idea how she could even feel that…he had some idea what he looked like and the picture he had in his head was not attractive at all.

The half-empty bottle of Scotch in his hand was becoming heavy as his eyes threatened to shut on him. He had evaded everyone for two days, hoping that by avoiding the issue, it would go away; bit it was always there; lurking in the recesses of his mind.

That is how Anne found him at two in morning; his head lying against the back of the chair and the bottle of Scotch placed carefully on the floor…still half-empty. She walked over to the fireplace and stirred the embers to life – wondering why it was burning at all on a late summer's night.

She sat down on the ottoman that was at the foot of the chair and tapped him gently on the leg. He jerked slightly, as though a fly had landed on his leg and was tickling his flesh; but he did not awaken. She touched him again, more forcefully this time, and watched his head lift slightly to acknowledge that he knew someone was in the room with him.

"Christine?" He asked, halfway between wanting it to be her and not wanting it to be her.

"No Erik…it is me."

Erik smiled, actually finding himself thankful that the visitor was Anne; he did not wish for Christine to find him in such a state. He had not really consumed a great deal of alcohol, but he did not need her thinking him addicted to the amber liquid; that would just compound the issues between them.

"I am sorry, Anne…for everything."

His words were strained and held more emotion than Anne remembered hearing from him; she wanted to console him, but could not find the words.

"I never meant for things to end up this way…the last thing I want is for another woman to be bound to me."

Anne scoffed loudly, causing Erik's head to lift questioningly. It was too dark for her to see his eyes, but she knew he could not understand her reaction.

"Do not even try to compare Christine to Lucy…there is _no_ comparison."

"That is not what I met, Anne….I just…" he sighed and dropped his head again, seemingly feeling the hopelessness of his situation, "…I just wanted more…that is all."

She leaned forward and took a large, articulate hand in hers and squeezed, hoping her assurance could be felt in that small gesture.

"More…you never had anything, Erik; your marriage to Lucy was a sham from the beginning. Your mother should have never forced you into that marriage; although without it, Gage would not be here."

He was silent for a little while, considering her words. He knew that his marriage had been a façade; but he had hoped to make something out of it; at least in the beginning. However, you cannot make something out of nothing…that is left in the hands of the Almighty, not mortal man.

"What if I cannot at least make her like me…more than just physical attraction I mean?"

"There is more there than you think, Erik…do not underestimate what she feels for you."

He nodded, not fully understanding what Anne was referring to…what exactly did Christine feel for him? He had felt compassion in her touch and heard it in her voice; he had felt lust in her hands and tasted it on her lips…but neither one of these things constituted anything more than what they were…superficial emotions.

He wanted more.

►▼◄

John spent his days scouring through the streets of London talking to anyone and everyone who had anything to do with the Royal Navy, planning and executing the balls on New Years Eve, the many caterers for the event, any personnel who worked shifts of any sort and finally, after several days, he had assembled a list of names.

Cornella Andrews had been present that night, working the floor and handing out drinks and other such things. Most people would not have even noticed her; a serving girl far beneath their class; but she remembered Commander Erik Worthington.

John caught up with her at the _Sew Shall We_ dress shop she worked in as the head seamstress. She was still a young woman, but John noticed the lines of age and bad living conditions showing on her face.

After introducing himself, John took a seat in the back room – surrounded by other ladies doing their tasks and a few men doing the manual labor. Cornella sat down across from him, fanning herself fiercely, hoping to ward off the pressing heat.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mrs. Andrews…I know it was a long time ago, but could you tell me what you remember about the New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball, of 1848 – especially anything revolving around Erik Worthington?"

She smiled, turning back the years on her face and showing that she could have once been a very pretty woman.

"Every girl who worked that night remembers the Commander; he was different than all the others."

John creased his brow, "How so?"

"He never seemed snobbish and was always polite with the hired help. He never pinched or had roving hands when it came to the women and he always acted the gentleman."

John jotted a few notes down in his black book and asked his next question.

"Did he come to the ball with anyone?"

She scoffed and waved a hand at him, as though dismissing what she thought was a ridiculous question.

"Yes sir, he did; a handsome man like him always had a woman on his arm. She was not the kind I would have picked for him; she was pretty…but it was a cold, calculating beauty that left everyone who came in contact with her feeling like they had brushed sleeves with the devil himself."

John assumed she was talking about Lucy – whom he had had the misfortune of meeting two days ago. Just being in her presence, made him regret ever meeting her.

"Did you ever see him with anyone else that night?" John finally asked; when he had her deeply reflecting images of that night in her head.

She cocked her blond head to one side and thought deeply for a few moments. She finally raised an eyebrow and looked at John with a sure smile.

"There was another woman with whom he spent time…but she left soon after they parted."

He was finally getting somewhere; there had only been two others that night who remembered seeing Erik. None of them could remember if he came with someone, let alone if he had been around anyone else.

"Did you know this woman, or could you describe her?"

Cornella shook her head regretfully, and lifted sad, waning eyes.

"I never got a good look at her…she was dressed rather oddly…" she squinted her eyes in thought and tapped her lips, "…in a pirates outfit or something like that…it was masculine, that much I remember."

It felt like another dead end, and John was quickly running out of time; Erik would soon have to have another business transaction with his ex-wife and Alastair if he did not get to the bottom of this mysterious woman issue.

"You know who you should talk to?" Cornella suddenly exclaimed, "Two people really; Mason Devishire, Commodore Worthington's best friend during the early years of his service; and Finnegan Burgess, the newspaperman who covered the event…he was everywhere that night."

Those were two names he had on his list; but Mason Devishire had left the country after being dishonorably removed from the Navy…some sort of misunderstanding about an Admiral's daughter; and Finnegan Burgess was proving rather difficult to track down. Of course, that could be easily fixed with a few well-placed questions and the right tone.

"Mrs. Andrews, that is most helpful…do you have any idea where I can find Mr. Devishire and Mr. Burgess?"

She pursed her lips and her eyes widened as she tried to come up with something useful. "I know that Mr. Devishire will not be much help, he had a falling out with the Navy and his family. I believe he fled to France…or some such place."

She looked up with a sparkle in her sky blue eyes and smiled. She stood and walked over to a woman about her age. A few moments passed in which Cornella seemed to be asking the other woman a few questions; the other woman than nodded at Cornella and came to stand beside John.

"This is Miriam Hollis, her husband's cousin happens to be the mistress of Mr. Finnegan Burgess."

John lifted an inquisitive brow and the corner of his mouth at the same time; this was going to be an interesting conversation…hopefully with a trail leading directly to Mr. Burgess' doorstep.

Cornella gave Miriam a slight nudge and the she shyly began to speak.

"Finnegan does not really talk to many people…not anymore. Peony says he is very forthcoming with her, but she is one of the few...he does not even talk to his wife that much."

John could only assume that Peony was the mistress; he did not wish to interrupt her at this time, she seemed rather shy about sharing anything.

"Peony says that he is always ranting about some man who stole his story that night…the night of the 1848 Masquerade Ball."

"What story…can you give me any details?"

John felt as though he was on the edge of a precipice about to be plunged into the raging waves; but something kept him from plummeting headfirst.

"I am not sure….she said he only babbles about it in his sleep or when he has had too much to drink."

It did not really matter…not any more; John had names that could be traced, and all roads would lead him to Finnegan Burgess.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

There are not a great deal of chapters left in this story; I have a few twists and turns left up my sleeve, but you know me, I can't hold the suspense out for too long - it drives me nuts.

There is a line in this chapter that I borrowed from a wonderful and beautiful movie, "The Wedding Date", maybe some of you will find it.

Thanks for the reviews and for the time you all devote to reading this, and all the other stories I have written or will write...God bless you.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 25 – What You See is What You Get

There was little Christine could do about the giddiness she was feeling; and Anne was not helping at all. One would think it was her own daughter planning a wedding, which had her constantly asking questions and making suggestions. What aggravated Christine the most about the whole thing, was that she and Erik could not find any alone time…somehow, she determined that Anne had planned it that way.

Her joy at the prospect of marriage to him was only hindered slightly by the knowledge that Erik felt obligated to marry her; and thankfully, the events of that day were not public knowledge. She knew he did not do it to insult her, but a part of her could not help but feel disappointed. Would their relationship have reached this point without this development? She felt confident that it would have...although, it probably would have taken a lot more effort.

Christine thought back for a few moments on the "talk" that Anne had given her a few short hours after Erik had proposed. The woman was quite world wise, despite her matronly manner, and knew that Christine wanted nothing more than to give Erik anything and everything he wanted; but there was wisdom in not allowing herself to yield to him just yet; wisdom that sounded good and made sense, but did not appease the aching void and throbbing desire within her.

Despite the circumstances, Christine looked forward to marrying him…love was her motivator, she just did not know if Erik felt the same way. He lusted for her…that was obvious, but she had experienced lust before – from many men as their eyes roved over her lush curves; but they were just as easily disgusted by her tall frame and odd coloring. She wanted more than that from Erik…she wanted his heart.

For the past couple of weeks, she had rarely seen him; he locked himself away in his conservatory and only returned to the house and climbed the stairs late at night. He would repeat the whole process the next day by getting up before anyone else, taking Gage with him, and doing whatever it was he did. It was his safe haven and she knew he did not want anyone invading it. It had been enough of a shock to him to realize that Wesley, Anne, and Christine knew about its existence.

She had found out one thing he was doing, he was teaching Gage the piano and violin as well as anything else the boy wanted to learn. Christine longed to follow them this morning, for she arose early just to catch a glimpse of Erik's form before he disappeared again.

"Erik?"

Her soft, sultry voice called to him and he could not pretend he did not hear it; how could he? It penetrated every part of him, setting his blood racing and his body on fire. Did she know what she did to him...most likely; he certainly had made no secret about his desire for her. He only prayed that her fondness and lust for him would turn into something different...more permanent.

Gage smiled tiredly and came into her arms without provocation. Erik just stood silently as she approached him in the dim haze of the dawning day. Tiny lines etched the handsome curves of his face, indicating he had not slept very well over the past few days.

"Erik, we need to talk about what is going on between us."

In the dim lighting, she could have sworn his shoulders drooped slightly.

"What is there to talk about, Christine? No matter how I look at it, a woman is once again being forced to marry me because of some ridiculously foolish act on my part."

She ignored the stabbing pain in her chest that his words caused and asked Gage to go back into his room until they came to get him. He gladly went, crawling back into this bed for a few more moments of sleep.

Christine grasped Erik's hand and led him into her room, closing the door behind her. She turned up the lamp, filling the room with a subtle glow that mixed with the early morning rays of the sun…the result was a dreamlike halo around the room.

"There is something I wish to show you…and you do not need your eyes to see it."

Erik heard her words, wondering what she was planning on doing. He stood poised for whatever tantrum he was certain she was going to throw, as that is what Lucy would have done under such circumstances.

Instead, he felt soft hands against the thin material of his shirt and before he knew it, his back was against the wall.

"Do not think for one minute, Erik Worthington, that I am being forced to marry you; I was given a choice, remember…and I chose to marry you."

He felt the warm caress of her breath on his lips and knew she was enticing him unwittingly…or perhaps she was _not_ so unwitting.

"Christine…" Erik began, in protest – weak though it was.

She put a finger to his lips, successfully silencing him and moved closer to him, this time pinning him against the wall with the luscious curves he admired and desired so much.

"There are far more enjoyable things to do with those lips than talk…I have missed spending time with you."

She held her ground, but did not claim his mouth. Erik felt this heart beating frantically in his chest and the gentle swell of her breasts against it did not help the situation. Instincts were not something Erik would say he possessed when it came to women, but something deep within him told him she wanted something from him….her body was sending off a signal to his – a silent, salacious song that spontaneously set his repressed passions afire.

"What do you want from me, Christine…what?" Erik begged, sounding every bit as desperate as he was.

Her thumb grazed the fullness of his bottom lip while the fingers on her other hand sensuously skated over the sensitive flesh of his neck.

"I want a marriage, Erik…a lifetime of laughing with you, of waking up next to you; of sharing with you…everything."

Every word she spoke softly drilled into him, granting a shimmer of hope that picked away at the icy coating around his heart; each layer had slowly been vanishing since the day she walked into his life.

She leaned in, placed a gentle kiss upon his neck, and purred, "Stop avoiding me."

He lifted his lips in a strained smile, trying not to read too much into her kiss. She wanted him, he was not blind enough to miss that truth; but what had him in such a quandary was why…why did she want _him_?

"I am not…I just…" the sun rose over the horizon and lit up the entire room, and Erik startled as her face came into view for the first time, "…Christine…"

He did not finish his thoughts before the image blurred, but he had seen her….not fully, but a haloed vision of her; the silvery mane of hair that framed her penetrating features was everything he had dreamed it would be…and more. He had delicately scanned what features he could make out before they had faded…and committed them to memory.

The open surprise on his face had Christine questioning him, "Erik…are you alright?"

For a moment, he said nothing; he just stood there with a half-smile on his face and a strange, focused glint in his eyes. Although all he could see right now as a blurry vision, Erik reached his hand out and slid it through the sensual softness of her hair.

"I saw you…briefly….just as the sun came over the horizon." He smiled, "You truly are as beautiful as I pictured you to be...perfection through my eyes."

She ran her hands over the hard, solid expanse of his chest, stopping when his heart beat frantically under their gentle possession.

"You saw me…as no one else sees me."

He clasped her seeking hands within his own and brought them to his lips, his need of her was suddenly too close to the surface and he remembered how it had felt to have her beneath him; infinitely warm, intensely passionate, and incredibly responsive.

"Christine…I am not too proud to admit that I need you…more than even _I_ thought possible…" He had placed his forehead against hers and was speaking soft and seductively, making her practically pant in anticipation of whatever he offered. "…but I fear for you."

She pulled back from him, "Fear for me…why?"

He smiled sadly and stood up straight, distancing himself from her sensual lure, "Can you not see it….you deserve so much more; a man that you can be proud to be seen with, a man who is whole in every way…a man far less damaged than I am."

Of all the reactions he had expected, her laughter had not been one of them. It was not a mocking laugh nor an amused laugh; it was a disbelieving laugh.

"Erik Worthington, I will not go through this with you again. I have made it clear to you in every way that I know – short of making love to you – that I…"

Some resistant form of sensibility prevented her from blurting it out; but Erik caught the eagerness in her tone and it took the breath right out of him.

"You what?"

She considered her next move carefully – weighing the good with the bad – and decided there was no time like the present to risk it all and bear her heart to him. She eased her hands up his chest once more and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I love you, you beautiful man."

His head lifted and the green of his eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul. He did not smile, but furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I do…and I have for a very long time."

Stunned hardly described how he felt; her words had somehow changed everything. Just the fact that she was willing to admit to having feelings for him was more than he had ever bargained for…but she admitted loving him.

"You…love...me?"

His hand rested in the middle of his chest as he questioned the credibility of her words, and doubted the soundness of her mind.

She read the look on this face as easily as if he had spoken his concerns aloud. She wound her fingers into the long fall of his hair, just above the sensitive spot on the back of his neck. His eyes closed at the intimate stroke of her fingers, and his head lulled forward. She gently kissed the corner of his tempting mouth and pulled his bottom lip into the warmth of her mouth before running her tongue over it; begging entrance.

His growl was low and the promise that growl held rode the waves of desire within her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her firmly against his impassioned body; she was going to drive him mad with her impatient kisses and eager hands.

Everything around them ceased to exist as they drank from each other. Her questing tongue demanded all that he had to give – demanded that he put aside every reservation that he had – and yield himself to her in every way. Her soft, panting moans hardened him to the breaking point and his body yearned to find solace upon the jutting peaks of her breasts and within the moist folds of her succulent, womanly core.

His logical mind took over, winning the war with his overly stimulated body, and he ended the kiss reluctantly. She would be his wife soon, and her kisses held within them the promise of something he dared not hope for…passion.

"Do you think I kiss every man I meet that way?"

Dear Lord, he hoped not! He recognized the drugging pull of jealousy – and found that he did not like it – not one bit; but the thought of another man tasting the sweetness of Christine's lips or touching the generous curves of her body, had his insides twisted in knots.

There was a dull ache forming somewhere deep within his brain, and his vision suddenly came into focus. He lifted his hand to her face, tracing the slim contour of her cheek and jaw; adoring the full pout of her rosy lips, and the perky lift of her nose.

"You are so beautiful…an angel with silver hair and violet eyes…" he drove his hand into the thickness of her hair and buried his nose in it, dragging her into him like an elixir of which he could not get enough. "…I thought that the images I created in my mind could never be matched…." His smile took her breath away, "…I was wrong."

Christine watched his eyes as he saw her, visually, for the first time; there was no disgust at her odd coloring and no judgment. He seemed pleased with what he saw. Before his sight faded again, he seemed committed to memorizing everything about her.

Hope was dangerously close to conquering the doubts he had lived with for most of his life; and for once, he welcomed it.

"I know that you cared for me during my recent accident; and I know that I have given you an incredibly hard time in the past…arguing and fighting about anything and everything." he gently kissed her lips, barely skimming the surface of them with his tongue before continuing. "I may not know what love is…not really, but I do know this…" he lifted her chin with his index finger and smiled, "…I would rather fight with you, than make love with anyone else."

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

My internet has been going crazy, and I could not upload this chapter to my beta, Mlle.Fox; so her expert eyes have not gone over it. I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors ahead of time.

As the Christmas season approaches, and my youngest son comes home from the Navy, my middle son and his wife - and most definitely my granddaughter - come home; and my oldest son comes home...I am going to be a bit busy. I do not know when I will update next; it could be a week or more. I beg your patience.

I also want to encourage all of you to take the time this coming weekend to go see Gerard Butler's new movie, "P.S. I Love You", it opens Friday. I hope you will, it is going to be a tear jerker, but also will make you laugh.

Have a wonderful and blessed Christmas, if I don't update before then. God Bless.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 26 – Making Ready

It seemed that from that point on, the days rushed forward and there was not enough time to plan the wedding. If it had not been for Katherine and Anne, Christine would have gone out of her mind.

Just days before the wedding, the three women were fussing over the dress that Katherine had helped Christine design and stitch together. Chantilly lace in an Irish crochet pattern hung beautifully over the skirt, collar, and sleeves; a princess neckline, U-shaped waistline, and pagoda sleeves accentuated the enchanted gown, giving Christine the look of a fairy princess from one of Gage's favorite stories.

It had taken only a few days to assemble the gown, and Katherine and Christine learned to blend their two cultures together to come up the gown that was uniquely Christine. Instead of white, they decided on ivory, it accentuated Christine's coloring and somehow made her inner glow more pronounced.

The gown was finally complete, and Christine was beaming from ear to ear in front of the floor length beveled mirror that Katherine had brought over. Her excitement over the gown was doing a good job of hiding her nervous, jittery stomach; in a few short days, Erik would be hers; she prayed he would never regret it.

Anne stood back from her and smiled with glee; the twinkle in her eyes giving her a motherly glow. Katherine fanned the short train out, making the gown even more splendorous, and clapped her hands in excitement.

"Christine, it looks just as I pictured it would! Your height and coloring just bring out the natural beauty of the material and design…it is so beautiful!"

Christine had to agree; the mirror did not lie. She examined herself from every possible angle and could not find one that looked anything less than stunning; not that she was stunning, she told herself, but the _gown _was stunning.

"I suppose I will do." Christine teased her friend with a wink.

They had become close friends over the last couple of weeks. John was away, working on some assignment that Erik had given him, and Katherine came over often, allowing the children to play and gaining insight to the British way of life.

"You will more than just, 'do', Christine…you look fantastic and you know it. Erik will not be able to keep his eyes off you…" Katherine stated, her eyes aglow with affection, "…now lift up the skirt so I can see how well the shoes fit."

Christine followed orders; although her mind was now on Erik's eyes and the fact that they were not the only thing she wanted him unable to keep off her. She smiled to herself, knowing that no proper young woman should be harboring such wicked and salacious thoughts…but then, she had never claimed to be a proper young woman!

Katherine fussed over her for a few more minutes before finally allowing her change back into her everyday clothing.

"Just a few more minor adjustments and it will be ready for the big day, which is only…." She wrinkled her nose in thought, "…four days away!!"

Wesley had been observing from afar; fearing that the female chatter would somehow lower his intelligence level. He was thankful to see Christine finally at peace with her newfound love and only prayed that Erik would be as eager to accept the inevitable strength her love produced.

The summer days were hot and long, making everyone anxious for the cooler days to come, but the evening breeze was still pleasantly soothing. The servants had already started gathering extra firewood and stockpiling the oil supply so that the first cold spell would not take anyone by surprise.

The wedding was set for August 10, 1858; Christine found it hard to believe that she had been in the Worthington home for a little more than two months and had managed somehow to gain the love of the one man she thought never to have; miracles never ceased.

Katherine bid them a fond farewell and headed back to her little corner of the world. As her carriage pulled away, Erik rode up on Lancelot; looking rugged and wild. The wind had whipped his hair into an untamed mess, but the look in his eyes was unmatched.

For five solid days, he had been able to see everything that the world had to offer…no black spots, no shadows, no fading in and out…nothing. The doctor had pronounced him healed, but Erik was cautious and took nothing for granted.

He took the breath right out of her as he lopped his leg over the saddle and landed safely on the ground in front of her. He was a different man in so many ways.…freer, happier, and far more confident…but nothing had changed to her; he was still Erik, the man she had loved for what she knew had been her lifetime.

He swept her into his arms and held her upturned mouth beneath his; claiming every breath she took and replacing it with his own. The kiss was untamed and roughly sensuous; numbing her to all outside interference, except the delving sweetness of his tongue and the sounds of their soft moans.

He gently pulled her lip into this mouth and suckled it for a few moments before releasing her tingling body, and stepping back.

He sketched a perfect gentleman's bow, and smiled brightly, "Tomorrow night is a night of surprises…." He stated with twinkle in his eyes, "…tomorrow night, you learn to dance."

She frowned with delightful confusion, "Dance?"

He smiled, but said nothing more. They spent the remainder of the day playing crochet with Gage – a game at which Erik was unbeatable, now that he had his sight back – and once that was over, they curled up together on the garden vestibule swing, watching the stars twinkle in a celestial rhythm that only they could hear.

Gage had drifted to sleep in his father's lap….his little face squished against Erik's vast chest; a picture of pure, peaceful bliss. Christine had never known such peace and was almost fearful as it suddenly became a possibility; did she deserve it after all the time she had spent searching for it?

Erik looked tranquil, as he sat with one arm securing Gage in his lap and the other draped over her shoulder; his eyes were closed and a smile tugged at his lips. Christine leaned close and kissed his cheek, causing him to rest it against the top of her head when she had settled back in his arm.

"Do you want more children, Erik?"

She had wanted to know for quite some time, but had never found the right time to ask…this seemed like the right time.

His eyes opened and he looked down into her luminous face; the moonlight teased the tresses of her hair, seeming to set wrap her in a cloud of silvery lace. She was an angelic being with the power to enchant him with just one flicker of her violet eyes; he could barely remember what life was like before she came to him.

The answer to her question was right in front of him…of course….

"Yes…I do…especially a little girl that looks just like you."

Christine smiled, leaving Erik to think that she found his answer sweet; but she was really counting the days until the wedding…or, more specifically, the wedding _night_.

►▼◄

_The next afternoon_

"Did he say what he had planned?" Christine asked Anne, who was busy displaying Christine's copious silver tresses in a trendy pulled up fashion.

The older woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, and gave one judicious shake of her head; she then dropped her eyes before anything could be seen; Christine was getting way too good at reading her thoughts by the twinkle in her eyes.

In truth, Erik had told her nothing; but she had seen the people going back and forth from the observatory all afternoon; making trips to a large carriage parked just this side of the forest. They had been very quiet and hid their purpose well, but Anne was just too nosy by nature; and could not allow such activity to go unnoticed.

There was little information she could provide Christine without ratting herself out; Erik would grow very skeptical if any information leaked out about his plans and he had told no one; he was already suspicious by nature.

"No dear…all he told me was to have your hair done and that there would be a package delivered by currier sometime around 6:00 p.m. for you; then, he would be around at 7:00 p.m. to escort you for the evening."

It was ridiculous to be nervous, but Erik was being so secretive about this evening. Christine tried to suppress the delirious smile that was bursting to get free, and eventually she lost the fight.

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

I tried not to make you wait too long. I love a little bit of intrigue...enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 27 – Inquiring Minds

Finnegan Burgess was a tall, willowy man with a receding hairline and cold, ice blue eyes. Some women probably found him attractive, but John just found him spooky - and after an hour of talking to him…he also found him annoying.

The dingy house he lived in lent no clues as to the man's wealth or intelligence, and John noticed the rather priceless pieces of art and collectibles that were on display – but a thin layer of dust coated everything – lending nothing to the decor. Delicate spider webs, seen upon close inspection, connected many of the pieces; and John always inspected his surroundings while considering the character of his host. He felt like a doomed guest at castle dread; that thought made him smirk.

Finnegan had been uncooperative at first, but John had persuaded him to give up the information he knew that he possessed; information that would allow Erik to finally have some peace in his heart…no matter how painful the news might be.

The estate – if it could be called that – sat several miles from what Finnegan called, "The Devil's Playground"; or London in just about everyone else's vocabulary. He currently sat across from John with narrowed eyes and distrust written all over his face.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Finnegan stated; his eyes never moving.

John pushed away the urge to fidget beneath the man's eerie stare, "Because you were once a man with integrity and respect…and you want the events of that evening righted before any more lives get destroyed."

Finnegan did not look at all impressed with anything John was saying; and seemed intent on ending their meeting before it had really begun. John swallowed the interrogating tone he had developed when wanting information and adopted a more negotiating one.

"Look, Finnegan…I am not here to make your life a living hell; all I want are answers – I think my client deserves them."

A cold, steely gaze cut through him, making a chill run up John's spine; the man could easily pass as a wizard or some other creature of dark powers…John forced himself to hold a steady gaze – even if he feared being turned to stone.

"Who is your client and why is he interested in that particular night?" Finnegan stressed, not trusting anyone as far as he could throw them…especially a stranger who showed up all of the sudden asking many questions.

John's smile was staid, giving the older man a reason to lift a bushy brow, "Who he is does not matter, but what does matter is that you tell me the events of that night to the best of your ability…honestly and without guise…I know when someone is lying to me and I will not tolerate it."

They regarded each other with strict stares; neither one of them willing to accept anything less than complete honesty from the other. John was no pushover, and had come up against some frightening adversaries throughout his career as a Pinkerton detective; Finnegan had developed a reputation for being ruthless when it came to finding out the truth about people, events, or situations, and he was known for not compromising anything that he reported. Now, he was lucky to get to right a letter.

Finnegan finally "humphed" aloud, "I have no intentions of lying about anything…my only interest is in assuring myself that you do not work for that swine, Goswick…" he narrowed his eyes, "…do you?"

Taken aback, John wrinkled his brow in suspicion, "Alastair Goswick?"

John could tell by the rage he saw rise in Finnegan's gaze that Alastair was not one of his favorite people. He relaxed, sat back, and crossed his legs.

"I can guarantee you that I do not work for Alastair Goswick…my client is equally as intolerant of him as you are."

Silence ensued for a few moments, as Finnegan seemed deep in thought. John took those few moments really to look at him for the first time. There was keen intelligence behind those cold, methodical eyes, and a sense of integrity about him that John seldom encountered in men of his chosen profession.

"To the majority present that night…nothing seemed out of the ordinary; ladies and gentlemen dancing and getting to know one another…." John had taken out his notebook and was writing down all that Finnegan said, making sure to miss nothing, "…there were a large number of officers from the Royal Navy present…some of whom was being watched by Queen Victoria for future knighthood and service to England in the House of Lords."

John had not heard this before…from any of the many people he had already questioned; somehow, Finnegan's version seemed to bring together all of the stray details he had obtained, putting meaning behind them.

"Was the man aware of her interest in him…or was Queen Victoria's mission a secret to all but her Majesty?" John asked, hoping he did not sound completely inept.

"No…he would not have known, but Prince Albert would have also been aware of the man's identity and qualifications; and he obviously approved of the Queen's choice."

"Was there anyone else aware of this man's identity?"

Finnegan sighed and looked away; a look of regret crossing his features before he wiped all emotion from his face.

"Yes…." He said with conviction, "…I was."

You could have heard a wolf howling miles away as the quiet settled uncomfortably around the two men; neither of them said a thing for a few moments.

"How does a writer for the newspaper get privy to such information?"

John was having a difficult time grasping the idea; the knowledge he possessed was confidential – few people – unless they were in close contact and trusted by the queen – would have had access to such information.

A young, attractive girl entered the room carrying a tray with a teapot and some cups. She casually poured the men some tea and then smiled with interest at John. He ignored her advances and picked up the teacup.

Finnegan watched her leave the room, his interest in her very evident.

"She was giving you the invitation, was she not?" He stated suggestively.

John sat his teacup down and frowned, "I am a happily married man, Burgess; I am not interested. How does a man like you get his hands on such privileged information?"

Finnegan chuckled and settled back in his chair, finally relaxing. He brushed his hands over his pants, removing imaginary crumbs from the material; when his eyes finally lifted to find John patiently waiting for an answer, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I was her Majesty's eyes and ears for many such events….her own personal herald – so to speak." He did not seem to be boasting, but rather seemed honored to have been in such a position of importance. "She often called on me to observe the events and report back to her about who was doing what…and with whom.

"She had called me to her a few days before the ball, and informed me of the candidates for the knighthood…and asked that I keep a distant but keen eye on them throughout the night. She only picks the most upstanding and deserving men to serve as knights and as her military and strategic liaison in the House of Lords in the future…they were all very young at the time."

To say that John was surprised would have been an understatement. The queen only trusted a handful of men with the secrets she seemed to have entrusted this man with…and John found himself looking at Finnegan with much more respect; but he still found the man's moral base dreadfully lacking.

"How many were on the list?" John asked, believing the answer to be irrelevant to his investigation, but realizing that he wanted to know.

"Only two."

John knew that Finnegan knew he wanted the names of those two men…and it was only after he heard them that John realized their importance…

"Mason Devishire and Erik Worthington."

►▼◄

The next hour passed quickly as Finnegan regaled John with the story of what happened that night….the story that was never told, but somehow got all twisted and eventually ruined one man's life.

"I saw the whole thing…the room was dimly lit, but I have excellent night vision and could see the young couple enjoying an intimate embrace and a heated kiss or two…but that was all.

"Mr. Worthington has always maintained a low profile when it comes to his personal life…and everyone knew he was engaged to marry Lucy Templeton; but that was all they were…engaged. It was not a scandalous thing to be in the arms of another woman…not yet."

"Who was she…I need to know?"

Finnegan laughed at John's enthusiastic and frustrated tone.

"Yes…I understand; Her Majesty was equally as eager to find out the young woman's name. She was not fond of Miss Templeton and did not want young Worthington to make the mistake of marrying her.

"It took me several weeks, but I finally found out who the young woman was. I followed her home that night and researched and investigated from there."

"Her name, Finnegan…I need a name."

He chucked again, "Denise...Denise Hampton."

John rolled the name off his tongue, committing it to memory while he also wrote it down.

"I found out some interesting things about that young woman….she was only fifteen when she pursued young Worthington; but she is also Miss Lucy Templeton's step-sister."

John's head shot up from his notebook and his mouth dropped open. The look in Finnegan's eyes told the truth about the secret he had just revealed…and John realized he needed a drink.

"Her step-sister….unbelievable." John whispered, more to himself than anyone.

Finnegan lit a cigar and sat back again, looking relaxed and eager to continue.

"Yes…and there is a whole different story behind that interesting side note."

John opened another page on his notebook, but the pen in the inkwell, and sat poised to write, "Tell me all that you know about her…no matter how unimportant the information may seem to you."

Finnegan was more than happy to finally get the whole thing off his chest.

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

A feel good chapter...enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 28 - A Night to Remember

Considering all things, the day had gone quite well. Erik had spent most of the day overseeing the arrangements; making sure that everyone did their job and did it efficiently.

It had taken quite a bit of work, but everything was in place and the hour was almost upon him. He knew Anne was doing what he had asked her do; she was almost as excited about the evening as he was.

The last time he had been this enthusiastic about anything was when he had heard he was going to be a father; shocked though he was. Christine had given him new life…and the will to live it.

Romance had never been a part of his world; he was unfamiliar with the rules and found himself questioning whether what he had planned for the evening was romantic or ridiculous. He had not shared his plans with Anne, other than to ask her to have Christine's hair done and watch for the courier; whom he had just seen riding away a few moments ago.

Pacing nervously from one end of the room to the other, Erik did not realize how stunning he looked in his black silk, double-breasted, vested suit, white shirt, blood red cravat, and shined leather shoes. His silky black hair hung neatly in a tail that trailed down the middle of his back to midway between his strong shoulder blades. For the past week, he had been wearing the glasses the doctor had left just to safeguard his eyes, but tonight he did without them. He wore the black domino mask that perfectly covered the scar but little else, and seemed to emphasize the passionate deep green of his eyes.

For a few days, he had been trying to decipher what the warmth was that he felt creeping just beneath the surface of his cool exterior – why did he suddenly feel like the world was not against him and he might be worth the effort after all. It was in a moment of distinct clarity that Erik realized he was happy…for the first time since Gage was born…he was truly happy.

"Mr. Worthington…where would you like us to set up?"

Erik shook his head to clear the thoughts that raced through it, and centered his attention on the young man who had asked the question.

"Is everything else in place?" Erik asked, feeling light-headed from the nervous twisting of his stomach.

The young man bowed low and assured him that there was no detail that had not been tended to and that little was left that needed to be done. Erik thanked him and supplied the instructions the boy had wanted in the first place.

He personally inspected each detail; assuring himself that he had nothing to worry about…he just wished his nerves would obey his mental command to calm down. Christine had made it very clear that she did not regret her decision to marry him, but Erik could not allow himself to get too comfortable in her enthusiasm; it just was not in him.

He pulled out his pocket watch and pushed the release, the time revealed that he had less than fifteen minutes before he was to escort Christine; one more quick inspection could not hurt anything and the exercise would do him good; at least, that is what he told himself.

►▼◄

The courier had delivered the most beautiful gown Christine had ever seen. Bluish silver with a plunging neckline that would have made any woman blush; Christine smiled sheepishly as she stared at herself in the full-length, three-way mirror. The color made her violet eyes seem even more violet and the silver of hair seemed to blend with it and become one with the dress.

The bejeweled gown sparkled like stardust and it seemed to be as full of life as she was. Its shimmering beauty matched the glint in her eyes, which seemed a permanent part of her since she had won the heart of the man she loved. She attached glittering earrings, which dangled elegantly over the slope of her long neck, and then placed the matching necklace against the ivory purity of her chest and cleavage.

Anne knocked gently on the door before entering, doing little to disguise the pride that welled in her heart - pride for this young woman who had somehow won her heart and the heart of her master in a few short weeks. She felt the swell of motherly pride and remembered feeling it long ago with her own young daughter…a memory that was not as painful as it had once been.

Christine caught Anne's eyes in the mirror and smiled broadly, the gleaming echo of tears in her eyes. She had never had so many beautiful things…never had any beautiful things…until Erik had become a part of her life and had insisted on revamping her wardrobe…and her heart.

"You are a vision of heaven…" Anne stated with a whimsical smile on her face, "…an angel come to earth to give my Erik a chance at love."

Christine accepted the hug the older woman graced her with and pulled back with an even larger lump of emotion blocking her throat; she would not allow any more tears to cascade down her face, Erik would not be pleased. He could not tolerate her tears in any fashion; they left him feeling inadequate somehow, although Christine could not understand that thinking. He would hold her with such tenderness when she cried, and no words were spoken…she found the way he treated her quite endearing…he considered it a chink in his armor of manhood.

"I wish he had never had to experience the pain that Lucy put him through…but if he had not, we would not have Gage." Christine stated as Anne fussed over the dress for a few minutes.

Anne stood up, placed her hands on hips, and gave one last sweeping look at the young woman in front of her. "Gage was the rose that grew from the thorns…and Erik has never regretted the gift that he was…but he and Lucy should have never wed."

Christine agreed, but did not wish to discuss the issue any further; to do so would only put a damper on the evening and she was already insecure about not meeting Erik's expectations; she certainly did not need the added pressure.

"Come…" Anne gently insisted, "…it is time and he will be here to get you in a few minutes."

"How do you know?" Christine inquired.

Anne gave a one-sided smirk and opened the door. "Because, he said he would be here at 7:00 p.m. to get you, and he is always punctual."

They had no more than made it down the stairs, when Erik appeared at the front door looking every inch the regal man that she knew him to be – dressed elegantly in black with a white rose bud perched beautifully in his lapel pocket - he simply left her breathless. Anne walked her to the door where he stood just beyond the threshold, patiently awaiting her company.

The dusky sunset cast a long shadow over his figure, hiding his face; but she could feel the heat from his eyes as they burned into her. Her body responded without preamble, the peeks of her breasts hardening to painful nubs as she felt his gaze dwell on them. Her pulse sped up, causing her to put her hand to her chest in a failed attempt at slowing her heartbeat; and she felt lightheaded…a phenomenon that seemed common in Erik's presence.

"My lady…may I say that there is, in the entire world, no woman that matches your beauty…." his dark head bent over the hand as he placed a kiss upon her upturned wrist, "…I am staggered by it."

Blushing was not something that came easily for Christine…she was not some priggish, sanctimonious female that hung on the words of a man as though they were her salvation. However, Erik's words had somehow caused a pink flush to overtake her and she was dumbstruck; unable to respond to him in any way except to act irritatingly like the simpering, mealy-headed females for whom she knew he had little tolerance.

Thankfully, he seemed unable – or unwilling – to see her weakness and stepped aside to loop her hand through his arm. He smelled heavenly; like a touch of the setting sun mixed with a dose of the midnight blue of the sky – mysterious and sensual with innocence that came from being too long without the touch and love of a woman.

He had cleared a path to the conservatory, leaving it smooth for her to stroll without folly. She still had not seen the angles and curves of his face, but she pictured his handsome visage looking down upon her from his considerable height seeing all her flaws through eyes that somehow turned them in to inimitably exotic beauty.

"Thank you for the gown, Erik; it is so lovely."

Erik rested his arm at her waist and pulled her close to him, giving her a slight, tender squeeze indicating that he had heard her.

"I do not do these things merely to please you, my love…I am slightly more selfish than that…" he teased, the silk ambrosia of his voice washing over her flesh and awakening her senses, "…seeing you in clothes that I chose for you does strange things to me."

He said the last part of the phrase just as they entered the conservatory. He pulled her close to him and nuzzled the softness of her neck, causing her practically to purr in his arms.

"Perhaps that strange feeling is the strong desire that I have to see you out of them."

Christine gasped and looked around the room, fearing everyone around them had heard his coarse remark. She swatted his arm playfully upon realizing that everyone around them seemed ensconced in a dreamlike state; almost like a fairytale come to life.

The conservatory had been transformed into a palace of silver and blue with flowers decorating the walls and corners. There were white rose petals covering the floor, and every step they took filled the room with the scent of roses.

At the south end of the large room was a stage containing an ensemble of musicians; a pianist, a violinist, a flutist, and a harp player; all were dressed in 16th century clothing and playing softly in the background.

In the middle of the floor was an intimate table setting with a three-tier candelabra. Rose petals were splayed over the top of the table and a bottle of white wine nestled comfortably in a deep, silver container filled with ice chips. The lighting was turned low for a romantic ambiance and Christine could smell something heavenly being prepared in another room.

She turned to the smiling man beside her and looked questioningly into his laughing, sparkling eyes. She looped her arms through his and cuddled against his warm frame, approving of his obvious efforts in planning the evening.

He led her to the table, pulled out the chair, and bowed slightly as she sat down. He glided gracefully into the chair beside her and brought her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Tonight…." Erik began, whispering gently into her ear as he nuzzled against her, "…I shall properly woo you; just as you should have been before agreeing to become my wife."

And that is precisely what he did; they ate Cornish hen stuffed with lemons and leeks, roasted potatoes with a touch of rosemary, carrots in honey sauce, and Crème Brulee for dessert.

They talked and laughed over dinner, and Erik was amazed to feel a smile grace his face throughout the entire meal. The ensemble had played quietly during the meal, brushing the background with gentle strands of various period pieces.

The romantic sound Handel's_Largo_filled the air and the mesmerizing beauty of the song captured the moment. Erik knelt down in front of her chair and drew her lips to his for a long, luscious kiss; gliding his tongue expertly against hers to elicit the most delightful sensations throughout her body.

Leaving her breathless against him, he pulled back and smiled.

"I never thought love would be mine, but you have taught me otherwise." He pulled the rose bud from his pocket, presented it to her, and pushed up on the bottom of the bud, opening the petals. Nestled within the petals was a ring – a 4-carat, Asscher cut diamond of rare beauty, set elegantly in a solid gold band.

It was exquisite and Christine could not even bring herself to utter a sound. She had been struck speechless but that did not stop her from tearing up and touching her palm to his marred cheek in pure love. Moments later, she found her voice.

"Oh Erik…it is stunning…you did not have to do this." She uttered, her jeweled eyes never leaving the ring as Erik placed it on her finger.

"Oh, but I did…" Erik responded, placing a kiss on her knuckles, "…if for no other reason than to see that look in your eyes…" he pulled her to her feet and claimed her lips once more, "…I love you, Christine; and I intend to spend the rest of my days proving it to you."

The ensemble played for a couple of hours as Erik taught his bride-to-be how to waltz; his year in Spain proved useful as he taught her the Flamenco dance as well – a dance that had her blood pumping and her hormones flowing…she was dangerously close to pushing Erik against the wall and having her wicked way with him.

In the end, they flirted passionately throughout the evening, had a slow, leisurely walk back to the manor, and Erik kissed her hand at the threshold of her bedroom door. His eyes were dancing as he pulled away from her to head to his own room.

"Three days…." he murmured, "…three days and you will be mine."

As he walked away, Christine wondered if she could make it that long. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed the door.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

Sorry, I hope to return to my normal schedule now...posting a new chapter every four days. My Christmas and New Year were wonderful, I pray that yours were too.

I have not had my beta look over this chapter...sorry for any grammar or spelling errors.

This is a filler chapter to bring us to another juncture in our lover's lives...bare with me.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 29 – Some Things are Better Left Alone

The carriage ride back to the lush English countryside which housed the Worthington Estate was less fulfilling than was the trip out several weeks ago. John had learned a few things that were unsettling – to say the least – and he knew that Erik would find them even more so.

It was raining this day; the drops hitting the ground in heavy pellets and orchestrating nature's symphony with loud thuds. The puddles of standing water made the carriage ride rough and messy, splotching the undercarriage with large clots of mud. The sky was angry and swelled with large, gray clouds that seemed to darken John's mood the more he looked them.

His journey had carried him from London to the mountains of France; onward into a small German village just inside the Austrian border and now he was on his way back to England.

There were times that he found himself missing the states; but he was finding his way in Europe, and he could not be more thankful that Erik was willing to venture into business with him….what more could a man ask for. His wife even found the idea sound and trusted Erik implicitly; which was a rarity.

Once again, John's thoughts centered on the business at hand. Discovery could be nasty business and in this case, it was going to get ugly. There was little that could be done about it, Erik had made in clear that he wanted any and all details forwarded to him immediately, regardless of how insignificant or needless they appeared to be.

John was no stranger to the ugly truth that often attached itself to people's lives; he had been head detective on several cases that ended up in less than favorable ways and with one or more injured parties. He hoped and prayed the news he carried would not result in such drastic and deadly actions.

His head was pounding incessantly and he rubbed his temples firmly and slowly, it seemed the rain always had this adverse effect on him; he should have been used to it by now. He leaned forward and dropped his head between his knees, hoping the rush of the blood might alleviate some of the pain…if even for a brief moment.

He thought about Katherine's warm smile and comforting arms and how he longed to breathe in her scent. It had been over three weeks since he had seen her and he found his thoughts straying toward her on many occasions throughout the day and night. She always knew the right thing to say and even knew what was needed during the times when words were not necessary…his love for her grew stronger with each passing day.

Retrieving his pocket watch from this jacket, John flipped it open and sighed longingly; this time tomorrow he would be with Katherine once again…and than on to Worthington Manor. He placed the watch back in his pocket, sat back, and closed his eyes; he did not know whether to look toward his arrival with happiness or dread.

Only time would tell; and by then...it could be too late.

►▼◄

Katherine's thoughts were on her husband, and had been for quite some time. She missed him dreadfully, but knew that he was doing what he was born to do. She wanted him to be happy and to feel as though his life amounted to something, and detective work was all he had known and he was extraordinary at it.

The children did not express their emotions excessively, but every night during prayer she heard them ask God for the safe return of their Papa. Standing in their room and witnessing such requests was touching and emotional, and she often had to wipe the tears from her cheeks before kissing them goodnight.

She had received a brief telegram from John just that afternoon, stating that he was on his way home and would arrive tomorrow afternoon. He would be heading straight to the Worthington Estate, but he wanted her to join him; he would come by the house and pick her and the children up before going over there.

Watching the moon shine in the sky made her smile as she thought about John watching the same moon; they loved to take midnight strolls under the stars and often wound up having a picnic while drawing pictures from star to star…it was a romantic practice they had developed very early in their relationship; and one she cherished.

Katherine turned from the window and sat down in the chaise to read a book, her long blond hair fell over her shoulder and her hand automatically went to her womb. It had been almost seven years, but their prayers had been answered and a baby was on the way. She had yet to tell Christine, the wedding having taken up most of their time together; but Katherine knew that as soon as the wedding was over and Christine was able to come down from the cloud upon which she stood, her news would make her friend extremely happy.

How would John react? He had all but given up on the idea of having another baby; but now she could give him the blessed news. The children would be happy – they also wanted a younger sibling; someone they could play with and tease mercilessly. Her mother was ecstatic; she could not get enough of the grandchildren since Katherine's father had passed on….they were her life.

Ten minutes after Katherine had gotten engrossed in the book, Karen padded into the quaint room rubbing her eyes. The small girl crawled up into her mother's arms and lay down in front of her on the chaise; Katherine caressed her hair, and forehead, and watched her daughter drift into a deep sleep.

She turned down the lamp and covered them up with the crocheted blanket that rested over the back of the chaise. It was hours later when her mother gingerly approached them and carefully awakened them as the sun shone through the window at 8:30 in the morning.

"Apparently you did not hear the door, my dear; Christine is here."

Patricia Windom was an older version of her daughter in every way except her hair. What had once been a beautiful shade of dark blond, was now a soft shade of silver; her hazel eyes still shone with the caring heart that everyone who knew her had experienced. She had lost little of her zest for life when Thomas had died two years ago, but she missed him terribly and the nights were quite long and cold without him by her side. The only reprieve she had was her daughter and son-in-law, and her two, soon to be, three grandchildren.

Katherine sat up and stretched, caring little that her friend would see her with mused hair and no primping; Christine was like a sister to her, and such things did not matter. She gently wrestled Karen from her slumbering state and sent the young girl upstairs to dress and get ready for the day.

"Show her in, Mother; I will see her in the kitchen while I fix us some breakfast."

Patricia smiled and went back to where Christine waited patiently in the foyer.

"Katherine spent the night on the chaise lounger in the reading room with Karen wrapped around her; she sleeps poorly when John is not here." Patricia offered, hardly sparing a moment to make sure Christine was following her. "I am glad that you and she found each other and have become friends…it is important to have a someone your own age to confide in and share secrets..." her voice trailed off as did her eyes, "…very important."

Christine agreed and smiled at Katherine as she entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Katherine was busy doing something with eggs and slipping something into the oven to bake. She had a slab of bacon out and began to cut pieces off in order to fry, but Christine's arrival interrupted the task.

"Christine…you look radiant!" Katherine exclaimed.

Christine beamed and accepted the large hug her friend bestowed up her and then propped her bejeweled finger into the air so that Katherine could examine the ring Erik had given her the night before. Katherine gasped and both hands went to her mouth to lesson the noise as she continued to gaze in awe at the ring

"He certainly knows how to pick out a ring…Christine, it is exquisite!"

After the initial shock and admiration faded a little, Katherine went back to cooking breakfast, insisting that Christine join them. The children were ecstatic about having Christine there and two hours passed before Christine said her good-byes and went home.

The smile never left her face as she stared at the ring on her finger and smiled to herself. There had been little in her life to rejoice over; few things that had given her a sense of purpose. There was nothing that could rob her of the joy she felt when she thought about becoming Erik's wife…

Nothing.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

I must apologize to everyone, my computer is going berserk and this makes my email pretty much non-existent - it will not allow me upload anything and send it to my beta. I apologize to Mlle.Fox for being unable to send this chapter through her for error checks and such - she is the best; and I apologize to my readers for the errors.

Other than that...read on.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 30 – A World Come Undone – Part 1

There is much to be learned in the silent moments before life, as it is known, changes forever. Was there anything that could have been done differently - probably; did anyone see it coming and try to prevent it - maybe? But most likely, fate was going to have her say, no matter what; and those she chose to involve in her scheme where mere puppets on strings – controlled by forces they could not touch, hear, or see.

Why could things have not remained the way they were…why did circumstances demand that secrets be revealed and what was once hidden in the darkness of obscure thought be brought to the cruel light of truth? No peace had come with the revelation; any retribution or satisfaction in the knowledge; what was the purpose of it all?

Had he asked for this…had he truly asked to have his life torn apart…again…for things over which he had no control – somehow, he must have known it was too good to be true?

He longed for darkness to swallow him; escaping the emptiness that had settled where his heart used to be. For the first time since his sight had been restored, his head was pounding and the bottle of Scotch at his feet was almost empty. Throwing back the last few swigs in his glass, he angrily tossed the glass into the raging fire and watched the flames consume it…if only it were that easy to rid himself of other things in his life.

Every impulse told him to go after her; this is not what he wanted. However, he was a fool to think that way; surely she had betrayed him, made him to feel the fool in a sick game of the heart.

He needed to get away from it all; lose himself in his own misery and self-hatred. How could he face his son at this point…how could he face anyone? Lonely tears of agonizing pain trailed down his cheeks, leaving a river of brokenness in their wake. Lucy and Alastair had finally robbed him of his dignity; the one thing he had always thought impenetrable …what was left behind was a mere shell of the man he once was.

The conservatory was off limits…the memories of the night before seemed so vivid and alive; the smell of her hair, the deep beauty of her eyes, the memory of her lips against his…they haunted him; mocking the pain in his heart with stabs of regret and disillusionment.

Never one for succumbing to fits of rage or sadness, Erik sank down into the deep, brocaded chair and pressed his arms against his stomach. He rocked back and forth in hopes of easing the nausea that had been eating at him since his world had walked out the door hours before, casting a look of pained humiliation toward him before her eyes were overwhelmed with inconsolable tears.

His eyes were stinging because of the hot tears and his head continued to throb; but it was his heart that seemed unwilling to compromise, and his mind kept replaying the entire ordeal back to him endlessly…from the moment John and Katherine had arrived…

FLASHBACK

Earlier that day…

_Christine heard the carriage as it pulled up, and ran to greet Katherine eagerly. Although she had seen her earlier that day, there seemed to be so much to discuss and finalize before the wedding. _

_Erik watched her through glowing eyes, his lips turned up in a smile of joy; there was something purely innocent about her at times…the way she approached life and grabbed it with vigor and energy – a concept he could not fathom. She would keep him ever young, of that he was certain. _

_John preceded his wife and reached up to help her down, a look of desire crossing his strained features; it was obvious to Christine that they would have rather been at home together than greeting Erik at his home…but there was little that could be done about it at this point. _

_The children followed, looking dapper and polished in matching outfits; hardly giving the adults a second thought before running up the stairs and into Gage's room to play. _

_Erik came forward and greeted John with a firm, friendly handshake, bowed slightly to Katherine, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. He extended his hand toward the door and led the group into the manor for tea and conversation. _

_After the kitchen maid had left the tea on the table, John sighed and leaned casually back into the safety and comfort of the couch; hoping that he looked far more relaxed and confident than he felt. _

_"You look tired John; I apologize for the extensiveness of the task I set before you." Erik stated sweetly, a relaxed grin curling his lips. _

_John lifted tired eyes, doing little to disguise the hesitation he was feeling under the weight of the news he carried. He tried to smile, but the attempt only succeeded in emphasizing his reluctance. He produced a small notebook and handed it to Erik, its pages listing every contact John had talked with and their location. _

_Ever since he had stepped into the manor, John had not made eye contact with Christine; a fact that both Erik and Christine found baffling. He had commented on several occasions in the past about how much he enjoyed looking at beautiful women, and he had counted her among the most beautiful. However, as Erik took the notebook from John, he noticed once again that he avoided Christine...the whole thing was rather odd. _

_Trying not to think too much about it, Erik thumbed through the small notebook, taking mental notice of each name with avid interest; it was at this point that Erik began feeling dread settle deep in his gut. A deep frown creased his forehead and his eyes shifted to the concerned features of his bride-to-be; she begged him to with her eyes for him to explain what he was looking at, but there was not time for such things. _

_Erik had told her nothing of his quest for the truth about that night long ago. The night he had never even discussed with her, and the woman who had changed the course of his life forever - the woman whose touch had rendered him as helpless and heated as Christine's touch did, but whose identity remained a complete mystery to this day. _

_She had destroyed him with her vicious lies and soft curves, for it had all been a cruel trap orchestrated by Lucy and her scheming accomplices. To this day, just thinking about how foolish he had been to assume her actions were triggered by some repressed desire she had been harboring toward him, made him want to scream in an unusual fit of rage. _

_Narrowing his eyes at John and leaning forward, Erik got straight to the heart of the matter, "Apparently, what you have to say is not going to make me happy…but that was not the purpose behind finding out the answers, so just rid yourself of your worry and tell me what you found out." _

_John ran his hand through his already tousled hair and briefly closed his eyes in a quick prayer. There was no easy way to break this to Erik and he knew there would be no turning back once the deed was done…he just wished he could erase the past and go back to the way things were before this whole mess had come up. _

_John opened his eyes and looked Erik in the eye without blinking, hoping the astute man could somehow read his thoughts and would put an end to this nonsense; but no such thing happened and Erik stared back with open interest. _

_"I was able to meet with Finnegan Burgess, the Royal Reporter for that night; it took me a couple of weeks to find him, but he had the answers I sought." _

_Erik nodded, remembering the wiry, tall man that lurked in every corner and often disappeared into thin air. He would not have thought to find him; let alone ask him about that night. John was resourceful and trustworthy, two character points that Erik admired in a business partner and a friend. _

_"Go on." Erik urged, eager to hear the entire sordid tale. _

_John continued, but not without hesitation. _

_"He remembered that night quite vividly, and needed very little prodding from me to tell his side of the story." John reported with a steady tone. "He explained his position with Queen Victoria and the reason for his presence that night; he gave me the names of the men he was instructed to watch, and then he said that he remembered you sharing an intimate moment with a woman – who was not Lucy – and that nothing more than some heavy kissing had occurred." _

_Extraordinary kissing, that is what Erik would have called it. Those kisses had forever changed his life – in more ways than one. _

_"I told you that was all that happened." Erik stated, a little more than miffed by John's apparent doubt. _

_Neither man noticed the color drain from Christine's face, or the sudden rapid increase of her breathing. She turned her panicked eyes toward Katherine, begging for her understanding and tried to speak…but no words came out. _

_"I know Erik, but I needed – for the purpose of fighting this battle if need be – a witness to verify your story." _

_He brushed aside his pricked anger and settled back in his chair, once again giving John his full attention. _

_"Continue John, forgive me." _

_John gave a brief nod and finally touched his eyes to Christine's wide, moist stare…it was at that point that he knew, without a doubt, what he had learned from Finnegan was the truth. _

_"The identity of the mysterious woman will come as a shock to you, Erik…in more way than one, I think." _

_"Just tell me, John…so I can know what the purpose was behind the deceit and lies that led me to almost lose my son and still depletes my assets." Erik was a patient man…under normal circumstances, but he had been at the receiving end of this blackmailing ploy for too long…he needed some answers. _

_At this point, Christine could take it no longer and stood up. She walked over to Erik and knelt at his feet, pulling her legs beneath her and touching her cheek to his knee. _

_"I believe I have the answers you need, Erik…I should have broached this subject long ago, but the idea of remaining a mystery was so romantically invigorating." _

_She was crying and Erik had no idea why…nor had he any idea why she claimed to have the answers to questions he had never asked her. He leaned forward and lifted her chin with his index finger, looking deep into her woeful, violet eyes. _

_"Christine, whatever do you mean?" He asked, his touch tender and his voice caressing, "The night in question was long before I meant you." _

_She pulled from his intoxicating touch and allowed the tears to roll freely, "No…it was not." _

_John remained seated, but he looked on with mortified interest, wanting - but at the same time, not wanting - to hear what she had to say. _

_"The woman from that night…the woman whose very breath you stole and whose heart was forever lost to you…" _

_Christine lowered her head and wrapped her arms around herself, not knowing what to expect from him; her eyes closed briefly, but then she raised them, looking directly at him with hope shining deep within their violet depths. She spoke the next two words in a whisper…but Erik heard them loud and clear. _

_"…was me." _

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

I understand that I surprised a few of you with the turn in this story...don't worry, all will get explained; a little at a time over the next couple of chapters.

Forgive me if things take a little longer than usual, I am having horrible problems with my computer - it keeps crashing - my son is supposed to fix it this weekend, so I should be able to move past the problems.

Once again, I was unable to send this to my beta (love you Mlle.Fox), so forgive any mistakes...and the shortness.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 31 – A World Come Undone – Part 2

_The words were out and Christine reached for Erik's hand, resting peacefully on his muscled thigh. She looked deep into his oblique eyes, wanting to escape within the deep green of them and pretend as though nothing had happened._

_The silence was ominous and incredibly disconcerting; Erik looked from her soulful eyes, hiding the true nature of his reaction; Christine's fingers absently massaged the spot on Erik's thigh where he had removed his hand from hers, breaking contact._

_Erik heard nothing going on around him; his mind slipped back in time to that unforgettable night when he had found the one woman who moved him above all others. Her kiss was shattering in all ways and yet, in the cloud of his memory, he could only remember the way it had made him feel at the time._

_Why did he not link Christine's intoxicating kisses with those kisses from long ago? He realized now…after the fact…that he reacted the exact same way now as he did then. He had not seen her that night, the shadows purposefully hiding her identity, but he had tasted her – felt her – desired her._

_He was an idiot. Had he been more focused on the similarities instead of how she made his heart race and his body hard; he may have concluded this on his own; but he had not been thinking in the past…he had hoped to move forward into a bright and promising future._

_Betrayal still tasted bitter, and he practically felt himself choking on it. Fury consumed him – shutting down all reason and sense of decency. Turning his head to stare down at her, Erik did not care that his common sense had deserted him and that the flame in his eyes would only set his world on fire…not settle anything._

_"I did not think there was anyone who could hurt me more than Lucy has over the years…" his voice was uncharacteristically soft, making his words that much more menacing, "…you had me convinced that you loved me, Miss Darcy, completely convinced."_

_He stood up and moved away, not caring that he swept past her with no regard. She remained on the floor, but her head hung low and the only part of her that moved were her shoulders as she wept silent tears.; the formal use of her name tearing a hole in her heart._

_"Have you any idea what your callus disregard for me has cost through the years…" he drilled his eyes into her, barely standing the sight of her, "…DO YOU?"_

_She did not look up...did not even acknowledge him in any way. Her supposed indifference made Erik's fury escalate to a dangerous level and he angrily pulled her to her feet, his hands clamped down on her shoulders painfully._

_"WHERE ARE ALL YOUR FLOWERY LIES NOW?" He roared at her, although his voice hardly rose, his eyes forced the words at her – spearing her with their intensity._

_Her head lifted and all Erik saw was the horrified look of complete shock in her eyes. Within their tumultuous, violet depths, Erik saw his world crumble beneath him, but he could not bring himself to care at the time. All that mattered was the searing pain in his heart and sting of betrayal in his unshed tears._

_"I want you out…do you understand…" he spat, turning his back to her, "…I want you out of our lives."_

End flashback

Standing slowly to his feet proved a decidedly difficult task as he perilously swayed from the combination of fatigue and alcohol. He closed his eyes hard, forcing the tears to coat his cheeks once again. She had left without a word - the look she had in her eyes being the only communication she conveyed.

John had tried to tell him the rest of the story, but Erik had sent everyone out; not wanting to see or converse with anyone. It was now, in the deep hours of the late night that he regretted his actions; regretted not giving Christine a chance to defend herself in any way.

"Papa?"

Erik spun around at the almost inaudible voice of his son. He stood just inside the door, looking small and fragile against the midnight black of the room. The boy padded toward his father's outstretched arms, crawling trustingly into his lap as he sank despondently to the floor and buried himself within the safe, encompassing warmth of his son.

Erik trembled against him and Gage – as though he understood the immense pain his father felt – held Erik's head with delicate, gentle hands. Erik raised slightly with Gage whispered, "Papa?".

Seeing the tears settling on his father's face and the stormy green of his normally steady gaze, Gage put an open palm to Erik's cheek and then captured a tear on his fingertips. He looked at it as if it were a foreign substance and then lifted seeking, inquiring, eyes to his father.

"Papa, why do you cry?"

What could he say to this boy who had suffered so much more than he had…whose own mother refused to give him even the simplest of affection…the love that should be the most blessed and assured of all…the love of a mother?

"I foolishly allowed my pride and wretched temper to run Christine off, Gage…I do not think she will be back."

Gage's chin trembled, but he bravely held his tears, "But Papa, you told me you loved her and she would become my mother for real…you promised."

Erik gently smiled, the effort unable to hide the deep sorrow etched on his features, "I know, Little Warrior…and I do love her…but…"

"That is all there is Papa….love…nothing else is needed."

"Gage, it is not that simple…" Erik began, but Gage shook his head and interrupted.

"It is…Fannie says it is…she said that love can win over anything…" Gage was insistent and trying even harder to keep the tears back, "…she said love always finds a way."

Silent tears wracked the child's body as he settled into his father's embrace. They sat quietly, Erik rocking Gage in his lap as he hummed low and majestically; lulling the boy into a deep sleep. He sat for the next two hours, cradling his son in his arms and contemplating the emptiness he felt inside and the realization that no matter how many people were in the house, it was empty.

He thought about every time he had seen Christine with Gage and how she had openly loved him as Lucy should have. As for her affect on him, every touch had assured him of her true and abiding love, despite his hesitancy to release the hold on his heart.

Carefully shifting Gage into his arms, Erik carried the slumbering child up the stairs and placed him on his bed. Erik propped his feet up and turned to draw Gage into his curved body, reveling in his warmth and innocence.

"It is not that simple, Little Warrior…" Erik whispered in the dark as his eyes closed in sleep, "…oh how I wish it was."

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

Up and running...yeah!!!

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 32 - Tangled Webs

Anne knew the night was supposed to be for sleeping, but there was no chance of that happening. She paced the floor; at times mumbling jumbles of incoherent words into the dark, or cursing the ignorance of certain men in her life.

This was the fifth time this night that she had hopped from the bed in an exasperated huff, waking Wesley with her ranting; something he supposed he should be upset about, but he honestly could not find it himself to be that way; he did not understand Erik's obtuse thinking in this matter any more than she did.

"Come to bed Anne, we will deal with this in the morning after we have both had a good nights rest and Erik is in a better frame of mind."

His logical words only made her more agitated. "What about Gage…how is he going to take the news that Christine is gone?"

Wesley had hoped to avoid that subject; the boy had been so ecstatic when Erik had proposed and Christine was going to be his mother. Just the thought of his little eyes being filled with tears and hearing his tiny voice crack with pain made Wesley want to box Erik's ears like the child he had once been.

"We will get through this like we do all things, my love…with diligence and love. Erik has been hurt and betrayed too many times in his life to think that there could be anything else out there for him."

Anne continued to pace, but she put herself in Erik's place and realized that he was not willing to settle for just anything any more – or anyone. He had been cheated by love in the past…having married a woman who _would_ and _could_ not love him; she supposed she understood his lack of tolerance in this instance.

However, that made it no easier to accept.

The next morning – having slept very little – Anne went in search of Gage, just to make sure he was alright. None of the staff remembered seeing him, so Anne headed up to his room, ready to awaken him for breakfast.

Somewhere, deep in the hours of the night, Erik had turned onto his stomach and Gage had crawled onto his back and fallen asleep. It almost appeared to Anne like Gage was trying to protect his father from some attacking enemy that could steal him away.

Not one for ridiculous sentiments or sappy emotional outbursts, Anne felt her eyes filling with tears, nonetheless. Gage had always been protective of his father…an observation she had made when Erik was blind.

As though he could feel her eyes on him, Erik stirred beneath her moist stare. He immediately shifted beneath Gage's light weight to gently crawl from beneath him. With tousled hair and rumpled clothes, Erik had no idea that he reminded Anne of his younger self - when he had known nothing of the pain that life would eventually deal him.

He stood and stretched, pushing his fingers through his hair in a hopeless attempt to tame the waves that relentlessly framed his features. After casting a longing look at Gage, who slumbered undisturbed in the middle of his safari bed, Erik tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door before throwing a warning look toward Anne.

"I know you are eager to tell me how asinine I acted and how she will never forgive me, even if I beg." He moved past her, letting the words rest between them until Anne found her legs and followed him.

"The only thing asinine about the way you acted is the fact that you still do not know the truth about that night." Anne stated, loud enough to stop him in his tracks. He spun around and frowned. "You jumped to conclusions that may or may not be correct and gave no one – no even John – a chance to explain further. I think Christine deserves to be able to tell you the truth, do you not agree?"

Unwilling to yield to her so quickly, Erik continued to walk. What was he supposed to do, forget that she purposely deceived him? She knew they had a history together; well, not really a history, but they had shared a moment; a moment that had shattered him – showing him how inadequate Lucy was in every aspect as the years had passed.

A disturbing realization occurred to Erik, why had he not recognized Christine as the woman who had ruined him for another woman – until Christine had come into his life? It was not until he learned of her participation in the blackmail ploy of Lucy and Alastair that he had begun to despise her.

Thinking back on it, Christine's kisses completely undid him – just as the mystery woman's had ten years ago. He was an idiot - that was the only explanation – thinking with other parts of his anatomy and not his brain.

"What are you going to do Erik?" Anne insisted, not letting him exit in peace.

His shoulders slumped and his head dropped before he turned to face her. Anne could have sworn she saw tears floating in his teal eyes before he glanced away from her.

"What am I supposed to do…forget the fact that she lied to me and hid her identity from me?"

"I am not asking you to forget, Erik…you know me better than that…" Anne moved toward him, wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms and ease his pain, "…all I ask is that you hear her out; let her explain her actions to you before you cast this relationship to the wayside."

She touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention to her, "Please Erik…if not for you, then for Gage; he loves her."

He finally looked at her this time, his eyes full of something that Anne could not identify – having never seen it before. He said nothing for the longest time; but then, he smiled, breaking her heart with its beauty and making it soar with his words.

"So do I."

►▼◄

Was it possible to move when everything inside and out was numb? Christine did not think so. She had not slept; images and visions of Erik filling her mind with regrets and her body with longing. How had she allowed this to happen?

It was not that she had intentionally caused this; she never would have done such a thing. How could Erik think that after all that they had shared? _Bull-headed man…_Christine spat the words in her mind, hoping they would help ease the ache in her heart; but it did not work.

She could not be angry at him; the fault rested fully on her shoulders for not telling him the truth long ago…the truth about many things. She was furious to realize what a coward she was; having never told Erik that she had been the one to cause his near fatal fall several weeks ago.

There had certainly been many opportunities to tell him…everything; but she had not….and where had it landed her; staying in the home of a friend, wearing the ring of the man she loved with everything that she was – but not sure where she currently stood with him.

Katherine and John had graciously allowed her to spend the night at their house, and offered to allow her to stay for as long as she needed; but she would not need long. There was no reason to avoid the trouble she was in. She needed to see Erik – today. She needed to tell her side of the story before matters got worse.

FLASHBACK

_"Erik thinks you were in a blackmailing scheme of which he has been a victim for several years – a scheme led by his ex-wife and her husband, Alastair Goswick."_

John explained in the carriage as they left Erik's home.

_"Blackmail?"_ Christine repeated, not believing what she was hearing.

_"Yes, they have threatened to take Gage away from him because he supposedly raped you the night of the ball some ten years ago…and although it did not happen, there was no evidence to support his story, but Goswick had an eyewitness to support his."_

Stunned, almost to the point of shock, Christine backed up and dropped into the chair behind her.

_"Who would tell such lies?"_ She whispered, trying to sort the information in her head.

_"That is information that I need to give Erik, but have not had the chance…I must go back and talk with him further."_

Christine lifted her chin in defiant determination, _"This concerns my future, John…I must go with you."_

John shook his head as he headed up the stairs for bed, _"Of course, we will go tomorrow afternoon; provided Erik will see us." _

He would see them…she knew he would. If nothing else, Erik demanded the truth, and the only way he was going to hear it…was from her.

TBC


	33. Chapter 33

Sorry! I was down with a stomach virus for a few days, but I am doing better and will get caught up on my writing. I hope you did not get too upset. Thanks to those who inquired on me, making sure I was alright...I appreciate the concern.

Onward we go...

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 33

The carriage had hardly come to a complete stop before Christine was opening the door to step down. She did not look back at the driver, but bound up the stairs and knocked loudly on the door.

It only took a few minutes for Wesley to answer the door, and Christine was so relieved to see a smile in his eyes and on his mouth.

"Where is he?" Christine asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

Anne came forward and smiled in her normal, matronly manner; gently squeezing Christine's forearm. There was little that could be hidden between the two of them now, Anne wanting nothing more than to assure herself that Erik was happy and loved – and she knew that Christine was the only woman who could fulfill that calling.

"He is in the conservatory…has been for about an hour." Wesley replied before Anne could answer. He stood before the young woman and tried to discern what she was thinking, "What is this all about, Christine…what happened?"

She pulled away, shaking her head and heading toward the door to walk the path to the conservatory.

"I will tell only Erik…and he can choose to tell you if he would like to."

Wesley and Anne begrudgingly agreed with her, although they really wanted to know the truth behind it all.

Anne nodded and smiled again, "Go to him; work this out before I grow any more grey hair." Christine hugged the older woman with a familiar ease that had come to mean so much to her.

The path seemed longer than usual, but she was walking it alone this time. It was late in the afternoon and the breeze was beginning to cool the heat of the day. Christine wrapped her shawl further around her shoulders and whispered a silent, but heartfelt prayer that Erik would be willing to hear what she had to say.

◄▼►

He sat staring aimlessly at the keys – hoping by some strange act of nature that they would start playing on their own; but he knew they would not. He needed the warmth of the potential melody hidden within their cool ivory surface; he needed the peace that inevitably filled him every time music flowed from him.

His eyes closed, driving out all sound and thought – all except the need that thoroughly consumed him; the need to create and feel alive again. As if of their own accord, his fingers floated effortlessly to the keys and found their designated areas; his back straightened and his breathing evened – giving him full control over the energy that charged his entire being.

Just a single note sounded in the quiet emptiness of the room; one single, extraordinary piece of heaven. His eyes remained closed as the melody swirled in his mind and more notes followed as his long, sinewy fingers caressed each key with a love born from years of practice.

Right there, in the quiet of the room; the remnants of the night he had officially proposed to Christine still surrounding him, Erik tore the tears from his heart – putting them into the only language he understood completely…the language of music.

The music called him a fool; despite the circumstances and events of the past, she loved him – really loved him. It was possible – the melody told him – it was possible that all of this was a big misunderstanding and that he had pushed her away for nothing.

He was completely unaware of the violet eyes watching him from the shadows, silently adoring him with a love he had longed for his entire life. What gave her away was the subtle scent of Lavender on the evening breeze; his sense of smell was still very highly developed, and he turned slowly to devour her with his eyes.

At first, he said nothing; but then he began to sing the words he had been saying in his mind for the last several hours.

_"I can't hide the way I feel  
about you...  
anymore.  
I can't hold the hurt inside…  
keep the pain out of my eyes…  
anymore."_

Christine stood where she was, listening to his heavenly voice fill the room. His eyes were the most beautiful, shimmering shade of teal green she had ever seen; and they were filled with tears.

_  
"My tears are no longer waiting…  
my resistance is not that strong.  
My mind keeps recreating…  
a life with you alone…  
and I'm tired of pretending  
that I don't love you anymore."_

He stood up, leaving the piano silent, but the room still echoed with his voice as he moved toward her with slow, sensual steps – wrapping her in the warmth of his stare and truth of his words.

_"Let me make one last appeal  
to show you how I feel  
about you...  
because there's no one else I swear  
holds a candle anywhere next to you."_

He stood in front of her, but did not touch her…his eyes saying with their intensity what his voice was relaying verbally; he could not live without her…but he was hurt by what he thought was deception and lies.

_  
"My heart can't take the beating…  
not having you to hold.  
A small voice keeps repeating  
deep inside my soul…  
It says I can't keep pretending...  
I don't love you anymore."_

His fingers reached up and gently stroked the soft contour of her cheek, wiping the tears from the porcelain surface; Christine leaned into this touch, wanton for it; begging for it.

_  
"I've got to take the chance  
don't let it pass by…  
If I expect to get on with my life"_

He leaned toward her, placing his forehead against hers, softly finishing the song.

_  
"My tears are no longer waiting…  
oh, my resistance is not that strong.  
My mind keeps recreating  
a life with you alone…  
and I'm tired of pretending  
I don't love you anymore…  
Anymore...  
Anymore…"_

They stood there like that for a few moments, enjoying the intimacy of it. Erik finally pulled back and looked at her with such longing and a deep pain that Christine hoped to never see again – as soon as they got this worked out.

"Make me understand….please Christine…do not leave me in this prison of loneliness and isolation any longer….make me understand." He stood tall and proud before her, but his heart was contrite and Christine knew it was draining him just to open up to her.

She went to him this time, wrapping him in the love that shone in her eyes; reaching out to him in the only manner she knew. She looked deeply into his troubled eyes and reached her hand to cup his scarred cheek – as though cherishing it above all else.

His eyes closed and his breath hitched, "Save me….save me from myself." He breathed.

She took his hand and led him to the small table at which they had shared dinner, and sat down beside him.

"My birth name is Denise Hampton…remember how I told you that my mother had died when I was very young and for the longest time it was just my father and me…" Erik nodded and she continued, "…I was about eleven when he remarried."

"He married Lucy's mother." Erik responded, already knowing this fact thanks to John.

Christine nodded and smiled a sad, forlorn smile, "She despised me…and months after they had wed, my father was dead. It was during these months that your brother was killed and Lucy became engaged to you…it was then that I first saw you."

Erik frowned, "I do not remember you."

Christine chuckled and squeezed his hand, "You would not…my step-mother made me one of the hired hands….I dressed in rags and was very seldom allowed out of the kitchen or laundry room."

His appalled look made her smile, knowing he understood the atrocity of it.

"I managed to serve my step-mother and step-sister until I was sixteen and then I left. I changed my name to Christine Darcy – Christine is my middle name and Darcy was my mother's maiden name. I was lucky enough to secure a position as a chambermaid in the house of the most prestigious doctor in town. It was under his tutelage that I learned medicine and became a nurse."

She stopped for few moments and stared into Erik's eyes, giving him a chance to respond if he needed. When he did not, she continued.

"I tried to get you out of my mind…learning everything that I could about nursing. I kept listening to the gossip around town and reading the papers – looking for an announcement about your marriage to Lucy – but I never read it. I did not see you or hear about you again – until the night of the ball."

Erik's eyes lit up and he set back in his chair, ready to hear whatever she had to say.

"As fate would have it, Dr. Hanson was tending a patient across the street from where the ball was taking place, and I had accompanied him that night. He had already told me I was through for the evening and that my time was my own. I would have gone straight to bed, had I not seen you entering the building."

Erik lifted a brow and tried to hide the charming smirk on this face. "I presume you did not go straight to bed." He teased, urging her to continue.

She smiled seductively and did so, "No, I did not. I am tall for a woman and decided that if I pull my hair up and tuck it under a hat, dress in black trousers, black boots, apply some wraps to my chest and some padding in certain areas…I could pass as a young man."

With that image in his mind, Erik had to smile in disbelief…she was the most feminine woman he knew – picturing her in such a way was almost too difficult and most certainly humorous. She caught his smile and returned it, knowing his thoughts.

"I wore the hat over my eyes and was able to pass as one of the kitchen hands; it was perfect. I convinced myself that I was only curious about how you were doing – since fate had brought you back into my life. I had nothing to do – since I was not really there to help in the kitchen…" She paused as Erik chuckled, "…I stayed in the hallway most of the time, and eventually the padding and wraps got so tight and hot that I took them off in the ladies lounge and threw them in the kitchen trash.

"Eventually, I saw you heading for the hallway and I hid behind a column until you entered a room…a room I knew was empty and had little lighting….I removed the hat so that my hair could flow and…" she looked him deep in the eyes – knowing he was remembering everything from that night, "…the rest you know."

Erik could not doubt the story – it was too preposterous to make up – and her voice never wavered; she was telling the truth.

"You went on to marry Lucy and then went to war…and our paths crossed again."

Erik's brow creased, wondering what on earth she was talking about. "How do you mean?"

"I served under Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War – I was there at the Battle of Eupatoria and I was one of the nurses who tended you when you were injured…it tore me apart to see you suffering and not be able to give you the one thing I knew you needed…love."

Erik did not remember very much about his time in the medic tent during the war; the memories were hazy and those he could recall were clouded over with severe pain. He did remember tender hands and a soothing voice; they had made the pain more bearable.

"I had to finish my time in the war, but then I found my way back to England and learned that Lucy had divorced you and than you had a son…" She smiled firmly, her eyes dancing in the light, "…I applied for the position of your nurse, and here I am."

He understood it all, and it made perfect sense; she had watched him – albeit, silently – for the past ten years. She had never thought to find love somewhere else – in the arms of another man – but had watched out for him and been there when he needed her.

"John knows the details about how the rape story got started…but I am willing and able to set the record straight, and I will do so."

Erik reached over and pulled her into his lap, burying his nose in her hair and finally giving into the peace of mind that only she could give him. He nuzzled her neck, then slowly ran his tongue over the pulse that rapidly beat in reaction to his attentions.

"There will be no need for such things…I will see to that." Erik purred.

He descended on her mouth like a starved man, gently nipping and nibbling on her lips before fully claiming them. His groan filled her with delightful longing, and she opened to him without any urging on his part. Her mouth was warm and moist, and she tasted of apples and cream as her sweet tongue melded with his and sent his head reeling.

The world stopped spinning for the few moments they spent enjoying each other; the only sounds in the room was the sound of soft moans, lips and tongues as they made up for lost time. Erik longed to lay her down and make love to her right then, but he knew he had to wait…tomorrow she was going to be his wife.

They both stood up and straightened their clothing before heading back to the house, "Do you still want to marry me?" Christine asked, a trill in her voice that Erik felt clear to his bones.

He turned to her and smiled broadly, "There is nothing I want more in this world than to marry you….and tomorrow is the day."

They reached the house and Erik gave Christine another long kiss before heading to the stables, "I am going to ride over and talk to John, you go assure Gage that all is well and that you are going to be his mother – officially. He needs to hear it."

She watched him ride off just a few minutes later, and then went to find Gage.

TBC

"Anymore", by Travis Tritt


	34. Chapter 34

Smiles!! 

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 34 - That's What Friends are For

The ride to John and Katherine's was refreshing and Erik needed the time to clear his thoughts. He had come so close to losing it all over his stupid pride; when was he going to learn?

He was thankful that Christine was an intelligent, strong-minded woman who knew what she wanted and did what she had to do to ensure results. If she were not that kind of woman, Erik shuddered to think of where they would be right now.

Her story had stunned him slightly, the idea that she had known him for so long, watched him and even nursed him back to health on a couple of occasions. She was Lucy's step-sister, that had been a little bit hard to swallow, but once Erik knew that she had had nothing to do with Lucy's little get-rich-quick scheme, he had been more than pleased and eager to get to the bottom of it all.

Erik leaned over the neck of his stallion and patted him gently, cooing into his ear words of encouragement and praise. Lancelot seemed to sense his master's pensive mood, and remained on the road, slow and methodically; not giving Erik his usual high-spirited run.

By the time he arrived at John's, a soft rain had begun to fall; it's cool drops glistening on Erik's fine coat as he walked up the path toward the house after tying Lancelot at the gate. John greeted him after only a few moments, and Erik followed him into the small parlor where Katherine sat knitting a tiny outfit of some kind.

Erik greeted her with a friendly nod and a hesitant smile, knowing that she and Christine were close friends and he was probably treading troubled waters by even being in her house. However, she smiled back and rose up off the divan, leaving the men to discuss the issues that had yet to be resolved.

"Did you and Christine talk?" John asked, as soon as the door was closed.

"Yes, she told me everything from her point of view and I know she tells the truth; now, I need to know who is doing this to me, because Goswick told me he had an eye witness to back up his story. To avoid putting Gage through anything more, I did not question his source."

John poured them both a glass of Scotch and sat down, pulling out his notes and all the information he had gathered and handing it to Erik. John sat back and crossed his legs, taking a long sip from his glass.

Erik soaked in all the information on the pages, moving past the ones he had read earlier and finding the information he was seeking. His eyes darkened as he read; every name jumping off the page and slamming into him with violent force. He looked up and found John watching him with a curious stare, waiting on his reaction.

"Are you sure about this?" Erik asked, needing confirmation.

John nodded and a confident smile spread across his face. "Very sure…now, what are we going to do about it?"

Erik cocked his head sideways and regarded John with amusing doubt, "We?"

John chuckled and drank down the last sip of his Scotch before standing. "Yes, _we_…I am with you on this Erik. I consider you a good friend and you have done wonders to further my career here in England; besides, we are business partners."

Erik lifted his brows and smiled, "That we are." He swallowed the last of his drink and stood to face John, "The only thing left to do right now, is find the best lawyer money can buy."

John nodded and rubbed his chin, a mischievous smile gracing his lips, "Leave that to me."

Erik thanked him and was almost to the door to leave before turning around and smiling, "The wedding is tomorrow, I expect you both to be there…and the children will be taken care of, so bring them also."

◄▼►

Years of service to someone normally endeared them to you…at least in some fashion, but Fannie was scraping the recesses of her mind to find anything redeeming about Lucy or Alastair Goswick – or any of their friends, for that matter.

It was not that they were abusive in any way – at least not in the physical sense – and not to her. They lived their lives as though no one else's lives had any importance or substance and as though everyone owed them something.

There was not a servant in the Goswick household who cared a whit about Lucy or Alastair and Fannie could not find it within herself to be concerned in any way; she had found a way out.

She finished packing her bag and made her way up the stairs toward the main entrance, not caring that in doing so, she would pass right by Alastair's office and most likely arouse his curiosity.

Without glancing at him, she passed his door and did not respond to him as quickly as he would have liked when he addressed her.

"Fannie…" he demanded – his voice as irritating to her as it had always been, "…where do you think you are going?"

The large grin that spread across her rosy features just seemed to make Alastair that much angrier.

"I suppose I did forget ta tell ya…" she stated with a smile, in her lilting Irish accent, "…silly me." Her smile faded and she was suddenly very serious, "I quit."

Unbelievably, Alastair did not know how to respond to her announcement. He stood there gawking at her as though his tongue had been removed – not saying a word.

"I do 'ope that you an' Miss Lucy 'ave a grrret life together…ya diserve ich other."

She turned her back to him and walked out the door…not giving his thoughts another moment of her time.

When Christine found her sitting in the day room drinking tea, it was only a few short moments later that they both looked up to see Erik striding in the door.

"Fannie, I see that you received my message." He stated firmly, smiling charmingly.

"I did, sir…and I am honored to be a part of yer household."

Erik would never tire of hearing her talk; her accent always made him feel happy.

"Christine, this is Fannie – she previously worked for Alastair and Lucy Goswick, my son fell in love with her, so I hired her." He explained, feeling good about the whole thing. "Anne…" Christine turned as Erik addressed her, "…please show Fannie to her room and get her acquainted with everything."

"She seems so wonderful, Erik."

Erik nodded in agreement, watching the two older ladies walk up the stairs; unable to keep from smiling.

"She is….and Gage loves her. I want her for Gage's nanny and as nanny to any children that our union produces." Erik cooed, pulling Christine into his eager embrace.

Christine noticed the ornery glint in his sparkling eyes, and narrowed hers in response, "What will Lucy and Alastair think?"

He kissed her senseless, leaving her panting in his arms, "Frankly, my dear, that does not concern me." He stood her on her feet, chuckled as she swayed toward him, and kissed the tip of her nose.

"It is late, I am tired – as I am sure you are – and we both need to be ready for tomorrow's activities." He winked, "Sleep tonight, because I doubt that you will get very much tomorrow night."

As he walked away from her, an exhilarating thrill spread through her; tomorrow night she would be his wife in every way. Should she not be nervous or anxious about what that entailed; should she not feel shy or scared about yielding her body to him as well as her heart?

She smiled expectantly…oh no, she had waited far too long for this man – fearing him lost to Lucy and then finding him again – she was not going to allow emotions and butterflies in her stomach to keep her from him any longer.

Sleeping proved to be very difficult, visions of the coming events and the glorious night to follow invaded her thoughts and there was little she could do to stop them. She tossed and turned, hugging the pillow to her body – wishing it were the warm, solid, enticing body of her fiancé.

TBC


	35. Chapter 35

Weddings!! Don't ya just love 'em!! This one is a little unusual, but how could anything involving Erik be anything but!!

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 35 – And Two Become One

Father and son stared at each other's reflections in the large mirror; somehow, Christine and Anne had talked them into matching suits and boutonnières. Under normal circumstances Erik would have found this situation unacceptable, but he could not rid himself of the ridiculous grin that kept curving his lips.

Gage was happy – truly happy; there had been so many times in the past few years that Erik had doubted his ability to make his son laugh or smile ever again; but Christine entered their lives and they were both lost from the beginning.

Erik refused to let anything ruin this day. He had already come too close to putting an end to it before it even got started. There would be no dark, Lucy-shaped clouds hanging over the proceedings, and definitely no mention of her name; that was a situation best handled by a completely unbiased, uninvolved party – and Erik had left it to John.

"Papa….can I call her Mama now?" Gage asked, pulling at the material that secured his tie.

Erik looked down at this son and smiled; he crouched and straightened his tie with expert, shaking hands. He took another moment to run a comb through Gage's hair and button his top button.

"You could have called her Mama long ago, Gage…nothing was stopping you."

Gage looked deep into his father's eyes and finally smiled. "I almost did, lots of times; I was not sure she would like it…so I did not do it."

"She would have been thrilled, Little Warrior; she has loved you from the beginning."

Erik stood up and took one more look at his reflection before lifting a brow and determining that all was as good as it was going to get.

"She has loved you too, Papa…" Gage stated, taking his father's hand. "…from the beginning."

A half-smile lifted Erik's mouth on one side and he tweaked his son's nose, "I do not understand how…I was such a horrible monster when she first came into this house."

Gage giggled, picturing his father as a monster of some sort, "Monsters are huge…." He emphasized, stretching his arms as far as he could, "…and ugly…." His little face squinted and twisted in various ways – to indicate ugliness, "…and green."

Erik's full-hearted laugh filled the room and he picked Gage up, hugging his small body tightly against his chest. "You make my heart sing, son….with every word you say."

They shared a long, happy moment before Erik put him down and sighed loudly, "Alright…" he stated, looking directly at Gage, "…how about we go get married now?"

Gage gave one large nod of his head and followed his father.

◄▼►

The gown was even more beautiful on a bride whose heart was soaring with the angels; today she would pledge her life and love to the only man she deemed worthy enough to have them. Only a few short weeks ago she had all but given up on ever seeing him again; and now, he was to be her husband.

Christine kept hearing her father's voice in her head, _"If it is worth having, it is worth fighting for."_ He always allowed Christine to think for herself, wanting her to be head-smart and self-reliant – not some man's puppet. He would be pleased with her choice for a husband; Erik was very much like her father in many ways.

"Christine!" Katherine exclaimed as she walked through the door of the tea room – which had been converted into a bride's room for the wedding. "You look positively enchanting!"

Anne came up behind her, clasping her hands and trying to fight the tears that were cradled in the corners of her eyes – suspended until they would have no choice but to parade down her cheeks. She smiled broadly, but kept her words to herself, fearing her voice would actually trigger the tears.

Following Anne – with arms full of bright, playful flowers - was the florist. She presented Christine with the most beguiling bouquet of white and violet Lilacs and some stunning yellow Snapdragons; it was the most beautiful display Christine had ever seen.

Somewhere in all the chaos, Erik had remembered that her favorite flowers were Lilacs and Snapdragons, and he had ordered the bouquet. She would have to think of a very special way to let him know how much his thoughtfulness meant to her; of course, the possibilities were endless.

"Alright, since everything about this wedding is definitely not traditional, I feel as though I should establish some tradition to maintain my sanity." Anne finally stated; her tears under control and voice cracking.

"Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue…" she opened her palm and handed the item to Christine. The small, lace kerchief was delicate and antique looking; quite breathtaking in its beauty.

"Something old - it was my mother's; she gave it to me the day I married Wesley and I have treasured it ever since….it is all that I have left of her." Anne finally wiped a tear from her eye and smiled. She motioned to the young maiden standing at the door to come forward; when she did, she presented a small, beautifully wrapped package to Christine.

Christine looked puzzled for a few moments, but decided to open the box and peer inside. Looking back at her was an intricate, gold locket on a chain. She gently picked up the locket and pried it open; immediately feeling the swell of emotion in her chest as she stared down at the picture of a beautiful, black-haired, green-eyed, young child.

"Something borrowed – the locket was Erik's mother's…it was the sole connection she had to him once Victoria took over his life; she never went a day without grasping it to her breast and saying a prayer for him….she loved him very much."

By this time, Christine and Katherine were both wiping tears from their eyes and the three ladies shared a long moment of hugs and soft words that finally ended in a round of giggles.

"Now, I suppose it is my turn." Katherine pulled up the generous hem of her skirt and after a long struggle with something beneath it, she handed Christine a blue garter.

"Something blue – I know that they are traditionally white, but I like blue – and Erik will love it!"

She winked at Christine and it was quite easy to read her thoughts at that moment; Erik had to remove the garter from Christine's stockings…it was going to be very entertaining to watch.

The last items were presented to her by the entire household staff. Wesley presented it to her as the lead butler and Christine could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes also.

She opened the small box and let out a small gasp as the sparkling contents became visible. Two glittering shoe buckles glistened in the sunlight, creating points of light all over the room. The crystal was stunning and captured the colors of the rainbow as Christine picked them up out of the box and admired them.

"Something new – we all took a vote on what we thought would be a good gift for you and this is what was agreed upon…we hope you like them."

If Christine could have, she would have hugged everyone – but about that time the music began to play - the moment had finally arrived.

◄▼►

The sky was daunting, but it could not put a damper on the hearts of those who gathered in the garden – praying that the rain would hold off for a few more minutes. The household staff had been granted the afternoon off, Katherine and the children sat in the very front of the ten rows of chairs that had been borrowed from the small parish church just a mile or so up the road. The vicar had eagerly agreed to perform the ceremony of a national hero like Commodore Erik Worthington, and Erik had asked to borrow the chairs – it was a perfect arrangement.

The small ensemble that Erik had contracted for the engagement night was back for the wedding, and the music was ethereal and whimsical. Erik had carefully chosen each piece, making the ambiance around them dreamlike and as close to perfect as anything could be and still be within earth's realm.

John stood beside Erik, grinning from ear to ear and flirting outrageously with his wife whose smile held a promise of things to come. He had talked with Erik earlier that day and they had begun to draw up the papers for their detective agency; hoping to open within a few short weeks.

Erik stood proud and stately, observing everyone and everything around him. His hair had been cut; falling to just below his collar. It was fanned over his broad shoulders, gently resting upon the black silk of his jacket. He wore the black mask – simply to accentuate his handsome features, and the pearl white of his teeth made the dark beauty of the man complete.

He had chosen a crisp, white, silk shirt; black cravat, black, silk pants, and shiny, leather shoes. Stunning and dashing, every woman around him was having a hard time keeping her eyes off him; but he only had eyes for one woman…and she gracefully appeared under the flowery archway, making his eyes drink in her intoxicating beauty before she began the short walk to his side.

She robbed him of all reason – all ability to think and function on a normal level. Her smile stole the breath right out of him and the minutes seemed to crawl as she made her way toward him. He felt her take his arm and lean into him and suddenly, all was right with the world – nothing mattered except this moment and this woman.

Christine repeated the vows that were said to her, unaware that Erik had written his own vows. She kissed the eternal and never-ending circle of gold that Gage held out to her and slipped it effortlessly on Erik's finger; smiling through the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes.

As though in a dream, barely aware of his own breathing, Erik knew the time had come for him to sing what was in his heart – the words he had heard in a dream the night Christine had said she would marry him; the melody that had somehow come alive within the same dream. He lifted her hands in his and softly whispered to her in song…only the lone violin accompanying him…

_"I've been down…  
now I'm blessed.  
I felt a revelation coming around.  
I guess it's right, it's so amazing…  
every time I see you I'm alive.  
You're all I've got…  
you lift me up.  
The sun and the moonlight…  
all my dreams are in your eyes._

_"And I want to be inside your heaven…  
take me to the place you cry from  
where the storm blows your way.  
And I want to be earth that holds you…  
every bit of air you're breathing in;  
a soothing wind.  
I want to be inside your heaven."_

He wrapped his arm around her and they danced – as though no one was watching and they were sharing an intimate moment under the stars. His voice gently rumbled in her ear…heightening her senses and bringing her attention to only him.

_"When we touch, when we love…  
the stars light up,  
the wrong becomes undone.  
Naturally, my soul surrenders…  
the sun and the moonlight…  
all my dreams are in your eyes._

_"And I want to be inside your heaven…  
take me to the place you cry from  
where the storm blows your way.  
And I want to be the earth that holds you…  
every bit of air you're breathing in;  
a soothing wind.  
I want to be inside your heaven."_

He pulled back and lifted her chin; bringing his teal eyes to rest within her violet ones…they were completely lost on the moment.

_"When minutes turn to days and years;  
when mountains fall, I'll still be here…  
holding you until the day I die.  
I want to be inside your heaven…  
take me to the place you cry from  
where the storm blows your way._

_  
"I want to be inside your heaven…  
take me to the place you cry from  
where the storm blows your way.  
I want to be the earth that holds you…  
every bit of air you're breathing in;  
a soothing wind.  
I want to be inside,  
I want to be inside your heaven."_

Erik watched the tears fill her eyes, and gently wiped them from her soft cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead….his eyes never leaving her.

"Christine, thank you for accepting all the craziness that is within me…" Erik stated, chuckling nervously as he remembered how close he had come to never seeing this day. "…thank you for seeing through the charade that was my life – how I had become someone I did not like and did not want to be."

He placed the simple gold band around her finger and placed a kiss against it.

"You have made me a man I can live with…someone I can look in the face every morning and not hate the very sight of…a man you can love; for that and so much more, I pledge the rest of my days to making you as happy to be in my life as I am to be in yours."

Stunned into silence by the earnest and heart-felt words Erik had said and the beauty of the song, the vicar simply pronounced them husband and wife.

"You may kiss your bride."

He could have made a display of his claim upon her, roughly demanding a response; but he had not married a woman unwilling to be with him…she loved him beyond any reason he could logically come up with. He gently took her in his arms and brushed his soft lips over hers, coaxing a faint moan from her as he deepened it slightly, but kept the kiss chaste and romantic.

Thereafter, Erik Worthington led his wife down the short aisle toward the reception area inside the garden room; the afternoon suddenly loomed before them and the hours seemed to stand still; it was going to be a long day.

TBC


	36. Chapter 36

The song in the last chapter was, "I want to be inside Your Heaven", sung by Carrie Underwood; I forgot to mention that.

Anyway, delightful and wicked times are ahead...bear with me as I try to bring it all together.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 36 - Passionate Interlude

It was no more than two hours later that a carriage sat in front of the manor; a charming, frilly carriage the likes of which Christine had never seen before. It was a beautiful buff color with intricate lattice work around the edges and top. The curtains within were lacy and feminine and when the step were unfolded, the fabric was of a light, dusty rose colored velvet.

From out of nowhere, Wesley appeared with a lovely piece of luggage and handed it to Erik, who in turn held out his hand for Christine to take as he stepped into the carriage.

She cocked her head at him, looking confused and elated at the same time.

"Are we going somewhere?"

Erik grinned and gently lifted her into the carriage, winking at Wesley and Anne before turning a reserved eye to Christine and lifting a dark brow amusingly.

"I _am_ capable of planning a honeymoon."

She playfully scowled and giggled at him, knowing he was every bit as nervous as she was. She had _not_ planned on a carriage ride this night…she _had_planned on getting her hands on her husband; an endeavor she still intended to pursue, even in the luscious interior of the carriage.

They waved good-bye to everyone, blowing kisses to Gage who was smiling as broadly as he could with Fannie standing beside him; he could not be any happier than he was at that moment. His papa was finally happy, he had a mama that loved him as her own, and Fannie had come to be with him forever…life was grand!

The carriage pulled away and Christine finally settled into the seat beside Erik….his dark, luminous eyes drank in every inch of her, undressing her piece by piece – if only in his mind.

She could feel his need, the palpable beating of his hungry heart as he continued to devour her with his eyes. She felt her body respond with taut, aching peaks at her breasts and a pool of desire welling in her womb.

"Did you lock the door before sitting down….with the activities I have in mind we certainly need no interruptions?" She saw him swallow hard and knew he caught her meaning, "I intend to get an education tonight and this carriage will be my classroom."

Her salacious words had him hard and hot before he sat down, having quickly and eagerly stood up to lock the door. His heart was beating frantically in his chest and he felt like a school boy again…lost in the eyes of the most beautiful girl in class.

Christine curved her body into his as he sat down beside her, purring against him like a she-cat in heat. She feasted on the rapid beat of his heart at the pulse in this neck, her tongue brushing over it with such tenderness that the breath slammed right out of him; leaving him as pliable for her as clay in the potter's hand.

"You are finally mine." She whispered against his ear, gently blowing into it as she spoke.

Erik squirmed in the seat, his body growing uncomfortably tight within the confines of his clothing. There were so many things they could do while enjoying the countryside; of course, it was nighttime and there was little to be seen by the light of moon. However, he did notice that Christine's hair seemed to shimmer in the silvery light of the moon, making her resemble a twilight nymph maiden bent on seduction.

"I will not take my wife for the first time in a carriage like some hormonally imbalanced adolescent." Erik groaned, willing his hands off her eager body.

Christine pouted and continued to sidle up to him, pressing her aching breasts into his hard chest and breathing into his neck, "There is no need to be so proper…you cannot shock me, my love…." She slid her moist tongue up the divot in his neck, finally touching her lips to his in a ploy for his affection. "…you did not marry a suitable wife…I am no lady."

She pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, suckling upon it like a newborn at her mother's breast. Her hands worked on his cravat and shirt collar, finally exposing the downy surface of his sculptured chest. Christine had dreamed of that chest…tasted and touched it in her heated sleep. She pulled his shirt from his pants and continued to unfasten it, finally leaving his chest open to her greedy gaze. Upon feeling the heat of her desire upon his flesh, Erik quickly turned and closed the curtains of the window that allowed access to the driver.

Erik watched her watch him; her eyes traveling over his muscled torso with an openly approving look. He could see her desire pooling in the violet depths of her eyes; wanting him with a lust she was not ashamed to show him.

"Christine…" he growled, as her hands stimulated his nipples to the point of sweet torture. "…would you not rather do this in the comfort of a room and on a bed?"

Her seductive, gentle laugh filled his senses, "Beds are overrated…and I have all the comfort I need right here…where are you taking me?"

That was not what he had thought she would say, but he decided to play along, "Since my birth mother was Scottish, I made arrangements at Sorn Castle. The family opens the castle to the public and they seemed eager to accommodate us."

" Scotland…" Christine repeated, a scandalous glint in her eyes, "…it could take us all night to get there."

Erik lifted a brow and smirked innocently; as eager as his body was, his mind kept erecting barriers that prevented him from completely surrendering to the desires of his heart.

"Yes, it could take hours…or so I have heard."

Her rapacious lips curved into a sensual smile, "Hours…" her head bent over his chest and she teasingly moistened one taut nipple with the sinuous movement of her tongue, relishing the gravely sound of his covetous groan. "…whatever shall we do with the time?"

Erik wound his hands into her silky hair and held her greedy mouth against his needy chest; practically begging her to continue her passionate exploration of his body. Her insatiable tongue paid equal homage to his other nipple and she wriggled into his lap as his hands finally found the abundance of lacey fasteners on her dress and began undoing them slowly and methodically until he had the dress completely off her shoulders.

Her chemise was silky and clung to her body like a second skin. She could feel the coolness of the air slip across her nipples, playfully arousing them to hard, aching peaks; she clasped his hands and moved them to her swollen, throbbing mounds; moaning when his mouth followed with fervor and caught a shamelessly aroused nub between his teeth and gently nipped. His moist, capable tongue wrapped around it, drawing a shiver of desire up her spine.

"This is scandalous…" Erik moaned, burying his nose in the cleft of her breasts. "…tell me to stop."

Christine threw her head back, thrusting her breasts further into his hands and face. Erik took the hint and once again drew a nipple into his mouth, massaging the other between his thumb and forefinger. Christine writhed against him, moved her lips to his ear, and whispered, "Never."

Neither of them was in control at this point. Erik patiently unfastened each bind on her dress while she nuzzled against his neck; each breath was a sensual massage against his sensitive flesh. It was not long before she was before him in nothing but her silky chemise.

The virgin white of the material glowed blue in the subdued lighting of the moon, and with the halo of her silvery hair framing her face and falling down her back and shoulders, Erik likened her to an angel whose divine purpose was to make him whole again.

Christine pushed the shirt and jacket from his shoulders, leaving him bare from the waist up, and then she concentrated on his trousers. Her hands worked diligently on the buttoned front of his pants, purposely brushing against the impressive bulge that strained against them. A swaggering smile played about his mouth as their eyes locked and she finished the task of drawing his pants down and off him.

"This is complete madness, you know that?" Erik protested with a smile, while watching her draw the strings from his undergarments and expose his full erection to her hungry eyes.

She moved her eyes from his jutting staff and stared deeply into his translucent, green gaze, "No…madness would be to deny ourselves this pleasure."

There was no fighting it any longer, Erik closed off every posh thought that kept coming into his head and allowed the erotic, forbidden magnetism of the moment to take over; giving himself to her alluring control.

He easily lifted her into his arms and gently moved them both to the floor, the natural sway of the cabin both enhancing and mimicking the mating act. Christine pushed his pants the rest of the way off with her feet and wrapped them firmly around his masculine hips. Except for his socks, Erik was completely nude and Christine sensually ran her hands down his back and grasped the firm, knotted flesh of his backside.

His head found the nook of her neck and he nuzzled her soft, scented flesh before finding the temptation of her earlobe and drawing into his mouth, making her groan beneath him. His hard flesh rested against her chemise, leaving to doubt as to his arousal. He impatiently reared back and ripped the delicate material of her chemise, opening her enlivened nubs to his frenzied, fevered eyes.

It had been forever, literally – having never truly made love to a woman – and Erik found he had no control over the burning need that enthralled him. He took one ravenous nipple furiously into his mouth with a feral growl, feeding on it as though starved.

Christine arched her back, wrapping her arms around his head and pushing him into her. Erik effortlessly lifted her at the waist and pulled her chemise the rest of the way off; leaving her bare except for her bloomers; which he ripped away from her with equal fervor and eagerness.

He left the bounty of her breasts and kissed his way down the soft curves of her abdomen, pausing to loop his tongue into her naval, and continuing downward; moving on pure instinct.

The musky, stimulating scent of her arousal heightened his own pleasure as he tried to settle between her quivering thighs, his height and considerable shoulders becoming a hindrance to his objective. Growling his protestation, Erik lifted her succulent form into his arms and spread her over the rich, velvet-covered seat.

His arms circled her thighs and she opened to him, all thought of shyness or decency lost in the uncontrollable need that had overwhelmed them.

The first taste of her was as though nectar from the heavens had been given him for sustenance; leaving him satisfied but forever longing for more. His talented, warm tongue floated over her engorged sex with ravenous ease; leaving her writhing against him.

Christine put her finger in her mouth, biting down gently to keep from crying out loud; she had never dreamed a man would do such things to her…never dreamed Erik would do such things to her. He consumed her – body and soul – leaving her filled with only him. Such acts were forbidden – or so they had always said – those who knew nothing of passion and complete surrender.

She reached for the stars, still lost in the sensations his tongue and fingers were creating within her; an explosive, crescendo was approaching; a trembling within that left her without substance and yet grounded her to him.

Erik heard the change in her breathing, tasted the change in her essence, and quickly settled his stiff erection against her weeping flesh. He smoothly pushed; entering her fluidly and painlessly until the barrier stopped his gentle intrusion.

"This will hurt, my love…I cannot prevent that." He whispered, calming her with the sound of his beautiful voice.

"Not for long." She whispered back, and thrust against him, piercing her hymen with her own movements.

She held his comforting body tightly against hers; absorbing the pain within the pleasure she had already experienced. He slowly moved inside her, cradling her in his arms, and massaging her with the gentle hardness that perfectly eased her trembling inner muscles. As quickly as the pain had shot through her, it was replaced with a driving, fierce need to reach for the stars once more.

Erik thrust into her, riding her as though the wind was at his back. She hugged him with strong, constricting muscles; driving his climax to the very brink and then demanding that she lead him there. His grinding hips slowed and the thrusts lengthened; Christine ardently meant each plunge of his hips with her own strong thrust until she could not keep the wave from overtaking her and cried out her release.

Erik rode her harder as she quivered beneath him, until his own pulsing climax demanded release; he buried his mouth in her neck, gently nibbling as he poured his essence into her. As they descended from the clouds, they were both overcome with a bout of laughter and chills. They held each other for a few minutes until Erik opened the back window and retrieved their piece of luggage.

They dressed without speaking; their bodies sated for the time being and their hearts at rest, but they both knew the honeymoon had just begun.

TBC


	37. Chapter 37

My beta has not seen this one, sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 37 - Castle of Dreams

John looked over the guest list and was rather impressed with Erik's plan of action. In the three days that Erik and Christine would be gone, it would be quite easy to distribute the invitations and make the arrangements.

It had only taken a blink of his vivid green eyes for Erik to know what to do; and John was eager to carry out the details. Katherine was doing her part, designing the invitations and now they were all headed into town to have them printed. The courier had already been hired and they would be hand delivered tomorrow.

"This is a brilliant idea, John." Katherine noted; satisfaction in her voice.

The children sat quietly at the quaint table and ate their lunch. The family had decided to spend the whole day together, eating lunch and then visiting the museum while the invitations were printed. It was obvious to John and Katherine that Erik's name and rank held a great deal of sway with the businesses in town; it seemed he was not only a national hero, but he gave generously to the small businesses of the city and they appreciated his patronage and support.

"It was essentially Erik's idea, but I was quite eager to help him iron out the details. It should prove to be a rewarding experience…" John smiled mischievously, "…at least for Erik and Christine."

Katherine knew that look; John was going over each element in his mind and knew there would be some angry individuals after the truth was finally told and the sins of the past were revealed. However, the injustice had gone on for far too long already, and Erik deserved to have his life back.

"Are we going to be invited?" Katherine asked, unable to hide the excited lilt in her voice.

John laughed, enjoying the reappearance of his saucy and intelligent wife. She had been a glorious addition to his own keen intelligence when they had married and he had missed this side of her. When they left the States, John was afraid she would somehow get lost in the normalcy of British life and forget one of the attributes that had first attracted him to her.

"I do believe Erik is counting on us to be there." The glint in his eyes said that he was looking forward to watching the plan unfold in front of him. "It is only a week away…and I do believe you need a new evening gown for the occasion."

Katherine had not had any new clothes for over a year and the clothing she possessed was rather threadbare, especially after the trip across the ocean in the murky, mildew-infested, under-cabin of a ship. Most of them were worn looking and not fit for such an event.

After they picked up the invitations, the dress shop was still open and John enjoyed watching his wife try on several gowns that he considered quite lovely. They finally decided on a satin, yellow gown with ruffles around the sleeves and hem; a scoop neckline and a matching, elegantly decorated fan to accent it. She looked like a ray of sunshine with her blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes; and John was blessed to be the one man she had chosen above all others.

The courier met up with them in the park just as the sun was setting and John gave him the instructions, paid him his fee, and expected word back by Tuesday concerning attendance. However, he knew everyone would be there; curiosity was a strong human instinct and few could resist it.

They stopped by the Dorset Square Hotel to finalize the arrangements and make sure that Erik's instructions were being carried out, and then they headed home. The day had been event filled and exhausting, but everyone looked forward to what was to come.

◄▼►

Neither of them realized how sated and weary they were until they were awakened by the sudden stop of the carriage. Luckily, they had had the foresight to dress completely before curling up on the seat and falling asleep.

Erik had hired Humphries Hackney Services to drive the carriage; Frank Humphries was an old friend whose son had served with Erik during the war…regrettably, Liam had not come home. Erik had been shocked to find out about the poverty the boy had come from and had done everything to help Frank overcome the depression that Liam's death had caused. It had not taken long for Erik to discover that Frank had always wanted to own his own Taxi service; and Erik had made it happen.

Christine fussed with her dress, making sure it did not appear rumpled; at least not more so than just sleeping in it would have done. Erik watched her fiddle with the material with amusement playing all over his features, and when her eyes locked with his, he could not help but laugh

"Frank will not care that your dress looks like you threw it on as an after thought and that you are a lovely shade of satisfied female as though you have been thoroughly ravished."

She continued to stare at him, carefully going over the items in the cabin – wondering if any of them would make a good projectile. She finally got her hands on her fan and tossed it at him, skillfully whacking him on the shoulder.

"Do not look so smug, lover…if I recall correctly, 'twas I who seduced you."

He shrugged his broad shoulders – rubbing the area where the fan hit him - and grinned innocently, "Technicality, my dear…Frank will believe whatever I tell him."

She gasped at his ludicrous threat just as Frank knocked on the carriage door to inform them that they had arrived. She pointed at him and squinted her eyes in what she hoped was an intimidating manner, "You will tell him nothing, _Commodore_ Worthington, nothing at all…" Christine warned, emphasizing Commodore, hoping to rile him, "…the poor man will not be able to take it."

Frank opened the door upon Erik's word, but they were both laughing uncontrollably as they emerged from the carriage and cast their eyes upon Sorn Castle for the first time. The large fortress looked impenetrable and impressive against the backdrop of the late morning sky.

The rolling Scottish countryside surrounding the manor only added to the wealth and beauty of the property, and both Erik and Christine were impressed with the gardens and the overall perfection of the place.

"Erik…it is stunning!" Christine breathed, hardly able to take in everything around her.

Erik pulled her into a warm, tender embrace and placed a kiss to her forehead, "Yes it is, but not as stunning as you are, my bride."

"Welcome to Sorn Castle, Commodore Worthington, it is an honor to have a national hero, such as yourself, choose to spend his honeymoon with us."

Both Erik and Christine smiled at the little man with the strong Scottish brogue; even though he had interrupted their moment of affection. Erik inclined his head, eager to put aside the man's obvious admiration and get on with the honeymoon.

As a young servant boy was enlisted to get their luggage, Christine noticed his unease, hugged his arm, and whispered, "Let them do what they can to honor you, Erik…you deserve it." At his doubting look and the slight shake of his head, Christine leaned in to say, "We have discussed this before…you are a reluctant hero, but a hero nonetheless."

He patted the warm hand that held his heart, and gave his wife a warm smile, "You are a boost to my ego…now stop flattering me - for flattery will get you everything."

The ornery twinkle lighting the teal of his eyes made her heart skip a beat; he looked every bit the precarious, swashbuckling pirate complete with long, smoky-colored hair, a roguish patch over his eye which he used to hide the scar; sensual, cavalier lips that promised nights of heated kisses and endless other passions; and strong, sculptured muscles running the entire length of his tall frame.

Christine noticed that she was not the only one admiring her husband's obvious assets; there were several other female guests about, and every one of them swept appreciative, inviting eyes his way hoping to capture his interest. Thankfully – for their sake – Erik only had eyes for his wife and did not even notice the other women around him.

Deciding that it was a compliment to have other women desire her husband, Christine lifted a blithe smile his way and cocked her head to the side, looking flirtatious and far from innocent.

They walked arm in arm ahead of the servant boy and behind the host, enjoying the scenery around them and the different sights and smells that were not familiar to them…the next three days would be loaded with discovery.

The first glimpse of the inside of the castle was as through Christine had walked straight into the pages of a fairytale – pure white walls, glistening crystal chandeliers, intricate plaster work on the ceilings and baseboards of the grand entrance hall; and beautiful tapestries and paintings depicting family ancestors and other such works.

"It is so ethereal; I never knew that a castle really looked like this…" her eyes lit up like a child in a candy store and Erik could not keep from chuckling, "…I always pictured they looked like this when my father would read to me…but I never knew."

Her smile filled the room, "I felt like a princess when he read those wonderful stories to me; I used to sit perched on his lap while the pictures floated in front of me and his low, melodic voice filled my ears - my imagination went wild."

If there had been no one in the room, Erik would have kissed her upturned lips right then, but they had an audience, so he settled for a warm, engulfing smile, "You are a princess…at least in my eyes."

The toured the manor leisurely, enjoying the distinct personality of each room – colors, decorative themes, furniture – everything was designed to bring each place to life. They finally entered the large suite in which they would be spending the next three days; luscious reds, deep greens, and sensual blues – the suite was romantic and corporeal; and seemed to suit the couple perfectly.

Every piece of furniture was beautifully carved and Italian marble accented each piece as well as forming the majority of the stunning fireplace in the center of the inner wall. A delicately designed crystal chandelier lit the room; cherubs and various forms of angels were carved into the plaster accenting it and Christine could not seem to stop looking at it.

The bedroom was decorated in shades of red accented in yellow and, although the bed dominated the room, the other furniture was equally as impressive. Everything was expressive and costly, creating an ambiance of romance and passion, but also keeping the occupants wrapped in warmth and joy.

Erik loosened the staunch tie of his cravat and pulled it off, then swept his hands through the loose strand of his hair that playfully licked the sides of his face. He was stiff from sleeping in the carriage, but he smiled every time he thought about their passionate interlude and he grew increasingly interested in renewing such passion.

His bride came in to his arms, wrapping herself around him with gentle ease. "Are you hungry?"

He peered down at her through expressive eyes, knowing she had read his thoughts without any problem, "I am hungry…for many things."

His mouth gently claimed hers, taking what she eagerly gave. They teased each other for a time, nipping and tasting as though for the first time, but Erik deepened the kiss and Christine answered his invitation with a resplendent and resounding ardor – meeting his plunging tongue with an urgency that had them both peeling clothing off without care to growling stomachs or tired muscles.

Erik laid her down on the silky surface of the bed and ardently kissed every exposed inch of flesh he could before settling on her arching, throbbing breasts – bringing each one to heated, moist peaks with the skillful swipes of his warm tongue.

Christine pulled his head to her hungry mouth and danced with his tongue before rolling him over and sitting astride him.

"It is my turn, dark lover, allow me…" and she kissed her way down his body; teasing each manly peak on his chest, dipping her tongue into his naval, and finally, sensually tickling the dimples at his pelvic bone, relishing the softness of his receptive flesh.

His jutting erection jumped in anticipation of her touch, springing to life beneath the heated adoration of her eyes. Erik watched her wet the fullness of her lips with her tongue and his mind turned to pulp.

The first touch sent his eyes slamming shut and his hands to the silver thickness of her hair. The muscles of his abdomen tensed as he kept his climax in check, pulling it back within him – holding off until they could reach that pinnacle together.

She brazed the swollen head of his desire with suckling lips and sinewy tongue, only lifting from it to tease the rock-hard length of him every few moments. His already impressive mass seemed to swell and lengthen even more as she continued to motivate it with her exquisite talents.

Soft, indulgent noises indicated to him how much she enjoyed what she was doing and that pushed him even more to the edge, his body trembling with tethered need.

"Ride me, Christine, before I am wasted." His hoarse, raspy voice ran up her spine and increased her already burgeoning desire.

She did as he suggested and eased onto his rigid flesh with careful fervor; knowing her climax would come quickly and blindingly. She placed her hands over his pectoral muscles, feeling another heated rush in her womb at the hard muscles that tensed beneath her touch.

Slowly, maddeningly, Christine began her own rhythm – feeling him move within her and closing her eyes to the unique pleasure she felt with him beneath her. He bucked against her, pushing himself further into her with each thrust she made and it was not long before they were both approaching the peak.

Erik sat up and wrapped her in his arms as she straddled his hips, still pushing into her with agonizingly slow strokes. Christine locked her legs around his waist, placed her hands on his knees, and forced him to increase his strokes – powerfully meeting each one.

They cried out together as he poured into her, filling her with his seed before claiming her mouth in a heated kiss. They rode their passion until exhaustion claimed them, finding sleep in each others arms and awakening hours later to a shining new day.

TBC


	38. Chapter 38

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

We all have fantasies we would love to act upon...even if we do not wish to admit it.

Once again, my wonderful beta - Mlle.Fox - did not look over this chapter before I submitted it; pardon any boo-boos.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 38 - Morning Glory

There were tours of every imaginable place in Scotland, and Erik knew they could not manage all of them within a three day time frame, but he also knew tours were not all that he wanted to do.

The countryside was lush and green, beckoning them to enjoy a romantic picnic beside a babbling brook, deep within the wooded acres behind the manor. Christine had never had a chance to enjoy such times, having grown up far too quickly and mostly on her own. Erik wanted to give her back as much of her lost childhood as he could.

They walked to the brook in the late morning of the second day, having spent the previous day going from castle to castle and being so exhausted when they reached their room, that they fell into a deep sleep without making love. When the morning had come, Christine had felt bereft of Erik's loving and heated touch, but they had been invited to breakfast with the noble family that owned the property, and it would have been considered rude and insulting to have not accepted.

Once the breakfast was over, Erik had been asked to play a round of gulf, a sport he had never considered playing, but had found quite intriguing. Christine had stayed behind with Lady Morrison, enjoying the romping children and talking about things about which she knew nothing.

Now, they would share this time together – they both needed it – and Erik intended to make love to her in the open air, beside the frolicking water. They were assured of privacy, as no one knew they were there.

The walk had been rather lengthy, and once they arrived at the brook, they were both quite hungry. The lunch of fresh fruits, Scottish shortbread, and various meats was tasty, and they ate slowly while the birds serenaded them from the treetops.

"This is beautiful, Erik; thank you for bringing me here."

Her voice was soft and soothing, mixing well with the warmth of the sun shining down through the breaks in the trees. The world seemed larger than it ever had and civilization was farther away than the eye could see; for this moment in time, it was just the two of them.

They sat on the bank of the brook, arms intertwined and bodies growing warmer with each engaging stare. Erik lifted her chin with his finger and tenderly kissed her moist lips, "I will take you to every corner of the earth if it means that that look will always be in your eyes."

Easing her down upon the blanket, Erik skillfully undid the ties to her dress, allowing the top part of the dress to part and her corset and chemise to show. Although Erik despised corsets for the most part - the way they lifted her full mounds and gave them more lift – he had to appreciate them; if only for a moment.

He kissed her slowly, drinking in every moan she made and sensually claiming it. His kisses moved down her slender neck and swept across the swell of her breasts, but he never touched the insistent peaks that begged for his attention.

They were almost too involved to hear the voices that carried on the wind toward them, whoever it was would be within the line of sight in no time at all. Erik quickly tied her dress back up and returned to his normal sitting position.

Within a few moments, a small sightseeing group from the castle stood beside them, loving the view as much as they did. They talked for what seemed like endless moments, before they insisted that Erik and Christine join them for a came of cricket on the garden lawn.

So much for making love in the grass.

◄▼►

The entire afternoon was wasted – at least in Erik's mind; the cricket game seemed to take an eternity and then they expected him to participate in a manly game of poker. Christine was actually enjoying watching him interact with other people, something she had rarely seen him do.

However, Erik was rather perturbed – the prospect of having his wife in every imaginable way was quickly fading - as each moment was occupied by their confounded castle companions. They were scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon -where had the time gone.

"Erik, do try to smile more often…brooding is just not a good look for you." Christine teased during one of the breaks from the poker game.

He roughly pulled her against his already jutting flesh – raking his eyes hungrily over her, "I would rather be in our room with you on your knees in front of me and my name upon your lips with each cry of pleasure."

She would have gasped in shock – as any proper lady would have done – but she found his words provocative and enticing. Her thoughts went back to the day he thought her a harlot and had promised endless joy on her knees in front of him. She felt her body respond to his words – awaiting his attentions.

"Behave yourself." She placed a playful kiss upon his pouting lips, thinking he looked just like Gage did when he pushed his bottom lip out to sulk.

He begrudgingly returned to the table and proceeded to win the game – somewhere around two in the morning. Christine was by his side the entire time - often bending to whisper evocative things in his ear. However, as the night waned, exhaustion invaded them and when they reached the room, each of them collapsed – sleeping soundly.

►▼◄

Christine awakened first, the soft rays of the morning sun caressing her skin and motivating her to stretch gracefully – awakening her muscles languidly. She giggled lightly when the almost inaudible sound of Erik's faint snoring reached her ears.

The sheet that covered him may as well have been transparent; his delicious body seemed to beckon her with its hard planes and chiseled physique. She would never tire of looking at him, especially when she knew the wonderfully delectable things that his body was capable of doing to hers.

He stirred beneath her fiery gaze; stretching like a sleek, black panther awakening from its slumber. The silky head of his morning erection peeked over the top of the sheet and Christine licked her lips in anticipation; he was magnificent to behold.

She carefully sat down beside him and ran her finger up the tempting trail of hair that began at the top of his pelvic bone and increased in width and volume as she passed over his rib cage and beautifully played across his chest. Her touch was no more than a feather, but she knew he felt her hands as well as her eyes scorching his flesh with their intense desire.

"Do not even think you will escape me this time…my elusive dove….I will have my wicked and sinful way with you."

His husky tone ran up her spine, spiking her breasts. He gently, but firmly, grasped her exploring hand at the wrist and immediately her breathing deepened. He had yet to open his eyes, but the seductive, impish grin on his face was enough to make Christine throb for him.

"I do not think so…you naughty man….I am promised to another."

Erik heard the teasing, challenging tone in her breathy words; she had whispered to him last night – in the middle of a bloody card game – that she had fantasies that only he could fulfill. She had proceeded throughout the evening to perk his interest with various verbal pictures.

He roughly pulled her down atop his strong chest, captured her writhing form with his equally strong arm, and proceeded to press her against his flaming hardness. She gasped in surprise, playing her part perfectly.

"Sir…whatever do you intend to do with me?"

His stormy green eyes narrowed and he ran the moist tip of his tongue along the scented curve of her neck before jutting against her once again. He smiled slyly as she gasped softly and her eyes slammed shut to hide the desire he knew swam in their violet depths.

Suddenly, she was beneath him; every long, hard inch of him. He secured her hands above her head, enjoying the struggle she was putting forth. Her sinuous hips only served to further increase his already burgeoning erection.

"You only make things _harder _on yourself…why do you thrash about in such a manner?"

The low, feral sound of his voice had her pining breasts aching for the feel of his tongue against their protruding nubs. The throbbing heat between her legs longed for the artistry of his fingertips to create a melody that made her flesh sing in adoration.

"You will never possess me…you may take my body..." she struggled against him again, purposely rubbing her thigh against his enthused manhood, "….but my heart belongs only to him."

Erik laughed harshly, creating the perfect sense of foreboding and sexual tension, "Believe me, my sweet, I will take your body…." He buried his head in the valley of her breasts, but did not claim them, "…but I will have your heart before the day is over."

She bucked beneath him, fighting him with long, sinewy arms, gently muscled legs, and a firm strength that Erik found arousing and surprising; he firmly held onto her hands, but forced her legs apart, resting the heat and hardness of his stiff rod against her weeping core.

"Does he make your body wet….begging to be claimed?" Erik did not wait for an answer, but ran his tongue over her swollen lips, inviting her to open to his prodding.

"I think not." He concluded arrogantly.

She opened her mouth to protest and he claimed her in a forceful, arousing kiss that invaded her senses. His masterful tongue entwined with hers, giving her little choice but to respond to his passion.

She longed to wrap her arms around his neck and continue his possessive claim of her body, but he pulled away as she began to undulate against him. She moaned in protest as he flipped them over again, and pulled his way out from beneath her.

"On your knees, wench…right here."

He pointed to the area directly in front of his jutting hard-on and she eagerly, gracefully backed up against him; wriggling her hips against him. She heard him hiss, and felt his strong hands cup the globes of her buttocks. He squeezed them provocatively, exacting a sensuous moan from her.

He pulled her up, leaned her against his chest, and coated her shoulder with long strokes of his tongue and soft nips of his teeth. Large, articulate hands ran the length of her stomach and ribcage, and finally held the fullness of her breasts. Erik rolled her jutted nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, driving Christine to the brink of an orgasm with his agonizing gentleness. One hand wandered back down to the silvery curls that hid the haven of her womanhood; already coated with her essence. He cupped her throbbing core and then began working the silky entrance with his fingers, using her own desire to heighten her passion.

The tiny nodule that seemed to control every nerve in her body literally purred as his limber, long fingers feathered it with attention. He brought her to a thundering orgasm, holding her tightly against him as she rode his hand.

She brought his mouth around to hers and kissed him ardently while she came down from the heavens in which he had sent her. When she calmed, Erik lowered her back down to the bed, her hips raised in front of him; he used the natural moistness of her body to lubricate his hardness and plunged into her with one hard thrust.

Never had anything felt so good; the length of him filled her completely, her body answered his every propelling motion with a pleasured whimper, butting against his hips ferociously until she felt certain her body would rip in two.

His hands cupped her derrière copiously, rubbing its plump softness as he watched his plunging flesh pierce her body continuously, increasing his excitement level. She bucked against him, creating the most intimate, licentious sounds he had ever heard; with each touch of their bodies, Erik drew closer and closer to the impending climax that was barreling down upon him with a force that almost terrified him.

Moments later, Christine screamed her release, furiously writhing against him as she milked his orgasm relentlessly. He exploded within her, meeting her somewhere in the clouds and spiraling back to earth with her.

He pulled her into his arms and carried her to the water closet, they managed to take a leisurely bath and, although breakfast was long past, lunch sounded marvelous…for some reason, they were both famished.

TBC


	39. Chapter 39

This is a short chapter...but necessary.

Enjoy.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 39 - An Evening on the Town

It really had taken no bribery or trickery at all to get Finnegan Burgess to agree to play a key role in the up and coming events. John had set the wheels in motion before leaving his home a few days ago.

_Flashback…_

"I will leave it to you." John had said, after Finnegan had made it clear that there was but one person whose presence was undoubtedly required if Erik intended to get to the bottom of everything and put an end to the blackmail.

"It will be taken care of, just contact me at the hotel; we will be there in a few days."

The man still had the pull that was necessary to make certain people squirm beneath his calculating stare.

"I do not know exactly what the Commodore will have planned or how he will want it orchestrated – I only know that it will be done."

Finnegan assured him that there was nothing to worry about and John took him at his word; what else was there for him to do.

_End Flashback_

It was a brief four days later that Finnegan stood at the door of his hotel room holding an elegantly crafted envelope with an equally impressive invitation inside it. He pulled the invitation and began reading aloud.

**"Finnegan Burgess and Guest,**

**You are cordially invited to attend a small dinner party to be held in the ****Rose**** Room**** at the Dorset Square Hotel, ****39 Dorset Square****London****; on ****11 August, 1858**** at ****seven o'clock**** in the evening.**

**I look forward to a delightful evening.**

**An Old Acquaintance"**

Although Finnegan knew from whom the letter had come, he shuddered at the thought of what might take place at this "harmless" dinner. There was something innately intriguing about this whole thing…Finnegan felt the stirrings of the passion he had once possessed about journalism and unraveling mysteries that no one else seemed able to reveal.

He glanced over the invitation one more time and smiled mischievously, "We will be there; of that you can be assured."

►▼◄

Not too many miles away, on the other side of London, another invitation was being delivered to a swanky town manor with lovely lattice work on the outside and an impressively groomed garden surrounding it. There were only two occupants residing within, as everyone seemed to have abandoned them to bigger and better things.

Alastair answered the door and frowned at the young man who extended the small envelope toward him.

"What is this?" He growled without taking it.

The young courier shrugged his thin shoulders and scowled at him, "How am I supposed to know…I am just a delivery boy."

Alastair yanked the envelope out of the boy's hand and waved him on his way. The writing was interesting, as was the design. Alastair lifted a brow and proceeded to open it.

"An Old Acquaintance?" Alastair repeated aloud; searching his mind for anyone he could think of that might invite Lucy and him to a dinner.

They were short on friends….always had been; it seemed that few people appreciated their conniving ways and the reputation they had managed to acquire. What irritated Alastair the most was the fact that Worthington seemed to have achieved what he had always strived for – with little or no effort…

…Respect.

Everywhere he went he heard various stories about Commodore Worthington's bravery; his amazing strategic mind; his powerful combat abilities; and the tragic way he had suffered at the hands of the enemy resulting in the loss of his sight and scars that would never heal.

It practically made him sick.

Lucy descended the stairs in a blaze of deep burgundy, seemly oblivious to the fact that everyone had deserted them. She had been completely unaffected by Fannie's departure and had hired another nanny off the street without so much as an interview.

Quite frankly, Alastair was growing weary of her escapades…he suspected she was having an affair, but he could not call her on it; it was her relationship with her ex-husband that kept them at a high standard of living.

"We are to attend a small dinner party at the Dorset Square Hotel on Saturday night. We have been invited by an old acquaintance – a name was not given."

Lucy broke into a broad, fake smile; pretending that going anywhere with Alastair was the highlight of her life. However, she was certainly enthused about having a night out, even if the circumstances were a bit mysterious.

"I know just the gown I shall wear…." she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror just inside the door, "…I shall look like a queen."

Alastair rolled his eyes, but was careful to hide his disdain from her.

►▼◄

There were other invitations that were sent to various ambivalent persons – they would all have a role to play. John had chosen an actor from the local theater for the main character; someone who could play the part on a whim…without a script of any sort.

_Flashback_

John watched as Eugene counted the bills in his hand with disbelief creasing his forehead. The money was more than he would make in a month at the theater.

"You want me to what?" The actor asked, making sure he understood.

John sighed loudly and gave a dubious smile, "I need you to feed off the others…listen to all that is said and respond as though you have a vested interest in the outcome."

"I do not know any of these people…is that going to matter?"

A strict shake of John's head made it clear that not knowing anyone was a key factor. "It is important that they _think _you know them."

_End Flashback_

It took no time at all for Eugene to capture the right character and put it to the test in front of John…it was eerie how easily the personality slid into place.

Everyone who had a role to play had been told ahead of time, and all was in place; the invitations were only a formality in their case.

When Erik and Christine arrived home the following night, John informed Erik that the stage was set and the players were all in place.

◄▼►

Carriages, black and sleek, arrived at each home at exactly the same time the following night. Each one was elegantly decorated and inside was a bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses.

The occupants of each carriage were pleasantly surprised at the royal treatment they were getting – especially Lucy – and felt for certain that good things were coming their way. For most, it would prove to be an interesting but happy occasion – for the few remaining others – not so much.

The carriages arrived at the hotel in sequence and each was greeted by a footman dressed in 17th century clothing and showing impeccable manners. The six main guests all acknowledged each other, Alastair giving Finnegan a second glance – not able to remember from where he knew him. Finnegan merely lifted a bushy brow, tipped his hat in a mild greeting and continued on his way.

The Rose Room was stylishly done up and there was a small ensemble playing music in the background; it was all very well put together…and would soon become familiar to all…in many ways.

TBC


	40. Chapter 40

Fun, fun, fun!!! 

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 40 - What's Behind Door Number Two?

There was a pristinely dressed gentleman manning the door as Lucy and Alastair approached. Lucy lifted a brow at the royal colors he wore; they indicated to those arriving that he was a personal guard of the Queen herself.

"Surely not…why would one of his kind be here?" She asked, noticing as some of the others began to arrive.

"Alastair, what is going on…I have better things to be doing? I do not know any of these people and cannot understand why we were invited."

She rattled him once again – her constant complaining was becoming a chore. She had once charmed him with her rancor and uncommonly keen intelligence, but Alastair was finding that the bitterness within her went deeper than he had ever thought…she was a truly hateful person; that had been fine for a very long time; but now, that bitterness had turned on him.

"Do be quiet, Lucy; I have no idea why we are here. Perhaps we are to honored by the Queen for something…the location is unusual – but no one has ever accused Her Majesty of being predictable; and the pageantry is typical for one her royal galas."

She rolled her eyes and then really took a look at her surroundings. Lucy had the strangest feeling that she had seen this color scheme before and the décor was distinct enough to stand out.

Alastair went in search of the water closet, and Lucy observed the other guests. Although she was not familiar with the tall, lanky man with the bushy eyebrows who had just entered the room, she recognized the younger man next to him; however, putting a name to the face was proving impossible. He was quite attractive, in a brutish way, and Lucy sauntered over to him with a friendly smile on her face.

"Have we meant before…you look very familiar?"

The man lifted a dark brow and she noticed the deep, chocolate brown of his eyes. There was a contemptuous air to him, something that Lucy found arousing, and she slowly lifted the long, golden cords of her eyes lashes, hoping to capture him in her web.

"I do believe I would have remembered meeting such a captivating woman." He bent over her wrist and placed an all-to-familiar kiss upon it.

Before he could introduce himself, a rather stout man, dressed impressively, clanked on the side of a crystal glass to get everyone's attention.

"Welcome…thank you all for coming." He scanned the room briefly before continuing, "The dinner is available to all on the tables to my right and music will continue to play throughout the evening. I am your head butler, Jamison, should you require my assistance."

With every new phase of the evening, Lucy grew more and more uncomfortable. There were too many things that seemed familiar to her and she could see that Alastair was reacting the same way. The young man she had shared a brief interlude with, was acting fidgety and awkward.

Alastair scoffed rudely as Finnegan approached him, "Why would you and I be invited to the same dinner party, Burgess…we are not of the same class?"

If there had been any way for Finnegan to show his loathing of Alastair in a more flamboyant manner, he would have done so; however, he had to settle for a scathing stare.

Not caring that he had been overly rude to Finnegan, Alastair looked to the younger man beside him. It had been long ago, but Alastair was certain he knew who he was; disregarding him with a lift of his brow, Alastair asked the one question that was on everyone's mind.

"Where is our host?"

Finnegan, looking down his straight, pointed nose, rolled his eyes at Alastair, causing the younger man to harden his jaw and narrow his eyes.

"I do not know, Goswick…perhaps the host is you and you lured me here to extract more stories from me so you can twist them to further your career."

The words hung in the air and Alastair practically seethed with anger. What strange twist of fate had brought his man back into his life? He was no longer the impressionable young journalist lapping crumbs off the floor as the Queen dropped them; he was a hardened man with hate in his heart.

Alastair tried to put on his most cordial and politically correct smile, "Come now, Burgess; that was a long time ago."

Finnegan lifted his thin lips to one side, smirking evilly at Alastair, "Yes…but I am certain you are still finding ways to use the information you obtained."

They stared hard at each other until John moved past them and toward the main entrance, drawing everyone's attention to his movements.

"I do believe he is going to be coming through this door at any time."

"Good evening…"

All eyes suddenly turned back toward the other end of the room; a man dressed in the Royal Navy's dress uniform had quietly entered the room and stood beside the host chair at the head of the table. His hair was long and dark – accenting the masculine turn of his jaw, and lively green eyes amusingly looked at everyone in the room.

"He could pass as your ex-husband…or his brother…" Alastair scoffed, leaning in to whisper to Lucy, "…except for the fact that he has a whole face and the use of his eyes."

Normally, Lucy would have found Alastair's comments humorous, but she was hardly listening to him. The entire situation was turning into a rather eerie dream – and too much seemed familiar in the back of her mind.

Several other people entered the room, people that Lucy did not recognize for the most part…but the way they were dressed and the music drifting in the background gave her a strange sense of déjà vu.

To add to the strangeness of the evening, the food was displayed in a buffet manner; elegantly arranged on two tables with exotic flowers adding to the décor. Lucy backed away from the familiar scene, shaking her head in disbelief.

Alastair felt the hair on the back of his head stand on end and looked up to see that their dark host was staring at him. The steady, consuming gaze was unnerving and Alastair could not hold the gaze for too long.

"Thank you all for attending this small gathering….I hope you are enjoying yourselves thus far."

Taking a cautious step forward, the young man stared jeeringly at the host, "Do we know you?"

The host's deep gaze rested on the young man and an amusingly wicked smirk lifted his full lips.

"Think, Mason….do you know me?"

Stunned that the man knew his name and even more stunned by the fact that there were aspects about the man that were very familiar to him, Mason furrowed his brow and backed up a couple of steps.

Finnegan started to chuckle, hardly able to keep from bursting into a hearty laugh. He watched his young guest practically trip over his own two feet to move further away from their mysterious host.

"Problems, Mason? Whatever is the matter with you?"

Lucy's eyes grew as big as saucers, regarding Mason with panic and loathing; suddenly remembering from where she knew him.

"What are you doing here…you were told to never come back?" Her voice was whispered, but the tone was acidic.

Mason, caring very little about what she thought, shrugged his shoulders, "I was invited."

Alastair jabbed a hard finger into Mason's chest, threatening him with the contempt in his eyes, "You are not welcome here….get out."

"I would watch yourself, Alastair; I do not take orders from you." Mason stood his ground, not acting the least bit intimidated by the man in front of him. "My days of taking orders from those beneath me are over."

There was a pregnant silence that filled the room; Lucy looked around her with confusion clouding her eyes. She suddenly lifted them toward the host and hastily approached him.

"What is this all about….you look like Erik…but you are not him?" She scrutinized his appearance, satisfied that he was not her ex-husband. "Why have all of us been summoned here tonight…it has been at least ten years since some of us have seen each other?"

The host smiled elegantly and inclined his head, "Why indeed." He bowed and stepped back, allowing all eyes to focus on another man who entered the room dressed exactly the same, but standing taller and more regally…

"Erik."

Two men who had once been friends stared at each other…one with disbelief and hatred, the other with wounded loyalty and contempt.

"Mason."

Lucy chose that time to faint…

…how typical.

TBC


	41. Chapter 41

Almost done; maybe two chapters left.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 41 -You Reap What You Sow

She hit the ground with a big "thug"; her dress swooping around her like a silky puddle of water. No one moved to aid her, each one unwilling to awaken her just to hear her muddle on about something that did not please her or did not go her way.

"She is your wife, Goswick, deal with it." Erik doled, affectively holding back a smile and appearing to be annoyed.

It had been over thirty days since either Lucy or Alastair had seen Erik and neither one of them were aware that he had recovered his sight fully. Alastair stared dumbfounded while the knowledge of that development embedded itself in his mind.

More disturbing than the eyesight issue, was the fact that Alastair detected none of the usual weariness in Erik that had come to be such a source of strength to him. The man was downright glowing from the inside out and Alastair could almost feel the warmth emanating off him.

Alastair imprudently waved his hand over Lucy's slumbering figure, not caring that he was doing her no good at all. His mind was elsewhere, trying to decipher the obvious changes in his nemesis.

"What is this all about Worthington…why have you brought us all here?"

Erik smirked, maddeningly, knowing that Alastair would be all the more disturbed by his lack of anger.

"What do you think it is all about, Goswick…look around you; when was the last time that we were all together in once place?"

Alastair glanced at Mason whose hate-filled eyes had not left Erik. They both looked at Finnegan at the same time, and he smiled…which drove them both over the edge.

As if on cue, Lucy began to stir – milking every moment for all it was worth – and lifted her hand to Alastair for assistance in standing. He steadfastly ignored her, causing one of her impromptu snarls that were so "attractive" to everyone around her. Erik scoffed, Finnegan snickered, Mason scowled, and Alastair rolled his eyes.

"Madam, I think we are quite fine with you being on the floor."

The statement was spoken with no remorse and Lucy lifted narrow eyes toward Erik – not believing that he had once pledged his undying love to her.

"Tell me, Goswick…how long did you think you could keep up the shenanigans?" Erik asked; drilling his bright, condescending eyes into Alastair's flushed face, "Using Gage as a wedge between us to ensure your pockets stay lined with money is reprehensible…and I will no longer be participating in your 'get-rich-quick' scheme."

Alastair deigned to laugh, hoping he sounded convincing; the quaking within him annoying him more than anything. For all his outward bravado, Alastair avoided confrontation.

Erik was a foreboding adversary – under any circumstances – but one had a chance if he was kept against a wall; and Alastair had maintained that wall for a good long time. He was not going to allow it to crumble now.

"Really, Worthington…as I see it, you really have no choice."

Erik's wickedly silken smile unnerved him; Alastair saw in the green chasm of Erik's eyes the very thing he had ripped from him several years ago…the very thing that made him tremble before the larger man now, "There you are wrong - once again, I do have a choice." Erik assured him.

Alastair crinkled his brow in frustration, not comprehending what Erik was referring to. The others in the room began whispering in the background, adding to the aggravation that Alastair was experiencing.

"What amuses me most is that you thought you could get away with it."

Drifting toward them from the shadows at the back of the room was what appeared to be a young man. Everyone's eyes were on him as he moved closer, and it was not long before Lucy's eyes widened in recognition.

The outfit, the way the figure gracefully glided across the floor, the music playing softly in the background – everything was leading up this one moment.

"It is her."

The words came out in a calm whisper, but Lucy felt anything but calm.

"It cannot be…how…" Lucy stammered, unwilling to accept the proof in front of her.

Erik amusingly shook his head and chuckled, "Whatever is the matter, Lucy?" Erik innocently questioned. After an effective pause he invited the woman to come to his side – bringing her into his sheltering embrace. "Finnegan was quite helpful in putting a face to the mystery woman whose very presence that night would produce the biggest changes in my life."

Finnegan bowed his head in an act of acknowledgment as Erik did the same.

Lifting her head in a regal stance, the woman stared openly at Lucy…awaiting the reaction that would surely make the evening worth it.

Lucy's hand flew to her chest, as the air seemed to suddenly be sucked from her lungs. Words strangled her as effectively as if two hands were squeezing the life out of her.

"I am surprised that you recognize your step-sister, Lucy…you have not given her a second thought in over ten years."

Clamoring for words that seemed unwilling to climb up her throat, Lucy could do nothing but stare bemused at the face she had thought to never see again – she had hoped to never see again.

"Denise…" She groaned, finally finding her voice amongst the shock.

Christine merely lifted her stunning features to regard the one person in the world that had all but stolen her will to live.

"It was you that night…you were the woman Mason saw follow Erik into that dark room and seduce him into a kiss."

Erik chuckled derisively at her misconception of that night, "Really, Lucy…do you think that I was so enamored with you that this beautiful woman beside me would have had to _seduce_ me into a kiss?"

Erik pulled Christine into his arms, leaned her back, and took her mouth in a kiss so deep and sweet, that her knees crumbled beneath her. His indolent tongue wrapped around hers with bold, deep strokes – fanning the passion that burned continuously between them.

Christine surrendered to his mastery; clinging to his broad shoulders as she arched against his hard body and bared her creamy throat to the searing heat of his lips.

Bringing her back to her feet, Erik whispered one more kiss upon her lips before turning back to the flushed face of his ex-wife and the two men he despised.

"I have it on good authority that all we shared that night was a passionate kiss and a few suggestive words…" his eyes narrowed on Mason, "…but someone took it upon themselves to elaborate a cockamamie story wherein I raped her."

Mason leveled a darkly seductive gaze on Christine – hoping to spark her desire his direction, but Erik arched the dark wing of his brow and lowered his strong chin.

"I suggest you stop looking at her like that, Devishire…she is my _wife_."

Yes….it happened again…

Lucy fainted; with all the grace of a wallowing pig.

◄▼►

This time, no one tended her prostrate form…no one bothered to haphazardly fan her with whatever idle object they could find…this time, she was left to fend for herself.

"It always comes back around to you…does it not, Erik…"

Mason spit the words out from between seething lips and with contemptuous eyes.

"…the bastard son of a lousy commoner….a foreigner on top of it all."

Mason's sour smile almost made Christine sick to her stomach, "I am the son of a baron…the only son of a baron…."

He laughed without humor and hammered his steely hatred into Erik through the hollowness of his eyes, "…I should have been the one to make Captain…I should have been the one the men would have given life and limb for….ME!!!"

He thrust his forefinger into his own chest, violently emphasizing his point. His loathsome gaze swept up Erik's body – stopping at the scars that had made him a hero.

"It should have been me….the son of a baron…." He took a hard swing at Erik, hoping to land the larger man with a surprise hit, but Erik anticipated his move and deflected the blow with a mere lift of his arm, Mason backed away in defeat.

"…instead, I was envious of you…the bastard son of vile foreigner and an overrated merchant."

Erik felt no pity for the man he had once trusted as a friend and shipmate, "No one ruined your life but you, Mason."

The guard at the door had made his way into the room and stood beside Mason and Alastair; his stoic stance said all that needed to be said.

"This gentleman will be taking you to see the magistrate; he will be most interested in the blackmail you have committed against me, and the detriment of my character that this scandal caused." He glanced down a Lucy who was just beginning to awaken, "Guard, do not forget to get her…she may appear to be delicate by nature, but she is the devil incarnate."

After the guard led the three conspirators out the door, with Lucy hurling less than ladylike words at Erik and Christine, John and Katherine stood amazed at the way things had worked themselves out. They applauded everyone involved for a job well done and proceeded over to the table piled high with delicious food.

Erik folded his arms across his chest and smirked as John placed various types of food on his plate. He watched for a few moments and than cleared his throat. John ignored him at first, but finally lifted his eyes from the generous spread of delectable food.

"What?" he voiced innocently, "Am I to assume that you wish for all of this food to go to waste?"

Erik and Christine shared an amused look; and then broke into a relieved and happy smile, "Not at all, John…but do take some home to your children – the rest is going to the orphanage."

"It will feed them for weeks." Christine added; wrapping her arms around Erik's waste and squeezing gently.

Finnegan had been standing quietly by, observing the last few moments with fascination. He finally stepped forward and extended his hand toward Erik.

"I am relieved to have finally had an opportunity to set things straight for you…it has been hard living with myself for the past few years."

"It was hardly your fault…" Erik assured him, "…you were as much a victim of this scam as I was." They shook hands vigorously, both realizing that they would forever be intertwined because of these events. "Thank you for being a man of integrity."

Finnegan bowed his head slightly, and made a hasty exit; his heart and mind having found peace that he had never thought to find again. Erik placed a kiss upon Christine's forehead and John and Katherine followed them out of the room.

TBC


	42. Chapter 42

I only had one more in me...enjoy.

Thank you for all of your reviews and words of encouragement.

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

CHAPTER 42 - Happily Ever After

With the drama of the night behind them, Erik and Christine spent the remainder of the evening reading a story to Gage and tucking him in before walking arm-in-arm to their bedroom.

Erik had left instructions with Wesley about combining his and Christine's items into one room and making it their own; he had done a fantastic job.

They finished doing some touch-up rearrangements before slipping into bed and each other's arms. Christine rested her head on Erik's chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. Her fingers drew lazy circles in the dark whorls of hair that accented the chiseled plain of his chest – and Erik ran a slow fan of his fingers up her arm.

"I am sorry about Mason…I know he was your friend."

Erik smiled sadly and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "Maybe, but true friends do not do such things to each other. Mason was a lost soul, even ten years ago."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, giving warmth that no other could supply. "I was a lost soul…trudging blindly through life with no idea where to find love…but you showed me the way."

Erik chuckled softly, "Not hardly, my darling…'twas you who showed me the way to love."

They agreed between the two of them that they had both been lost without each other…both of them thankful for the string of unpleasant events that finally brought them together.

◄▼►

A few short days later, Erik and Christine were on their way to the Queen's Investiture and Royal Ball, neither of them anticipating what the afternoon would mean to them.

Hoards of people flooded into the building, more than Erik would have ever thought would be interested in such a gathering. He lifted an inquiring brow as they entered through the garishly decorated, double doors amidst clapping people and looks of hero worship.

"I do not know these people…why do they look at me in such a way?" Erik whispered into Christine upturned ear.

"Because…as I have so readily tried to explain to you…you are a hero, and have been for several years."

He still refused to accept everything that she was saying, thinking she was reading more into it than was actually based on truth. They were escorted to their seats, near the front of the large room, and sat through the next few hours…until Queen Victoria herself, took the podium.

She was regal in her beauty, a woman that all other women admired and envied. She was strong and feminine, and held the power of the world in her delicately gloved hands.

"The last and final presentation goes to a man whose service to this country and to the men whom he commanded was and is exceptional – beyond reproach. He gave of himself to insure the safety of his men and the victory that would capture England a strong position in the Baltic region."

Christine's heart began to sing in rhythm with the Queen's words; she knew there could be not man but Erik that she referred to. Glancing at him, he had absolutely no clue.

"Without his bravery and self-sacrifice, England would not be the nation she is." Victoria took a moment to regain her fortitude, tears for her nation forming in her eyes. "Will those courageous men who served aboard the _Phantom_ please stand."

Many stood – all of them seated in various places throughout the room. Erik remained seated, but he was beaming from ear to ear with the knowledge that his ship and its crew were finally being recognized.

"Commodore Erik McKinley Worthington please come forward."

The Queen's request echoed throughout the theater and Erik stretched his neck and scanned the crowd for whoever this "Erik McKinley Worthington" was. It took several moments for realization to dawn and he turned to find the Queen's eyes on him.

She held his gaze, encouraging him with her eyes to move toward the stage. The audience broke into a loud applause as he stepped from his seat and approached her.

He stood before his Queen, dressed in a most elegant silk suit, white silk shirt, black cummerbund, black cravat, and his white half-mask. The dark, wavy locks of his hair framed his face, accenting his carved jaw and deep, sparkling eyes. He was riveting; and just about every female in the room that could see him, admired him.

Queen Victoria was no exception, and her smile was pure and appreciative.

"Take a knee, Commodore Worthington."

Erik furrowed his brow in question, beginning to comprehend what was transpiring.

_She cannot be serious…_Erik thought; his heart pounding so loudly that he was certain the entire room could hear it.

He knelt before her and bowed his head in reverence. His first thought was to graciously decline the honor she thought to bestow upon him; however, to do so could possibly cost him a great deal in the long run.

Her sword touched the surface of his shoulder, and her voice graced his ears.

"With the power vested unto me, I hereby dub thee Lord Erik McKinley Worthington, Earl of Stoneridge." The sword passed on both shoulders, and Erik pulled his eyes closed; he had the chance to start a family legacy – one far better than what had been passed down to him.

He could finally give his son a name worth having…one that suddenly held meaning to him – one he wore with pride in his heart.

"You may rise." She leaned forward as he rose and lifted a royal brow, "Now, you have no excuse to not serve England in the House of Lords."

Erik bowed in acceptance – realizing he had no more excuses to decline - and moved away from her. The rest of the evening went by in a blur; reuniting with his shipmates and finally seeing with his own eyes that few had been lost. His heart was light and it felt as though the dark tendrils of despair that had long been a part of him were gone for good.

Christine curtsied before the Queen and humbly thanked her for all she had done for Erik.

"It was a long time coming, Lady Worthington; I tried to knight him years ago, but Lord Erik was not cooperative…" she looked over at Erik's tall, elegant figure as he got acquainted with other members of the House of Lords. "…he kept declining saying he was unable to serve for health reasons." She remained silent for a few moments and then chuckled, "Even when he was without his sight, he was a better man than most."

Christine could not agree more.

►▼◄

With all the excitement that had gone on, several days went by before Erik and Christine knew anything about John and Katherine's pregnancy. Once the secret was out Lady Worthington spent a great deal of time helping Katherine prepare for their new arrival.

Lord Erik and John laid the plans for their new business and by the turn of the new year, Charter Detective Services was up and running. Erik attended almost every meeting of the House of Lords, advising and training on military strategy, and became a living legend among the people and the nobles.

Early March came around and Katherine's water broke early on a Thursday morning. Everyone was frantic, especially John – one would think he had never been through this before.

It was not until he held his new daughter, some three hours later that his demeanor changed to one of calm serenity. Katrina Lynn Andrews was tiny in all the right places, except her eyes – blue as the sky and sparkling – they were the most significant feature she possessed; and John fell in love all over again.

Christine finally had the opportunity to hold her, cradling her tiny body against the warmth of her breast. Katrina searched for the source of food that seemed to readily available at other times, making Christine giggle softly as she gently brushed the tears from her cheeks.

Erik, baffled by her tears, knelt beside her chair and pushed the loose strands of silver hair from her eyes.

"Why do you cry, my love?" His voice was tender and full of compassion – he hated to see her cry.

She gave the infant in her arms another gentle hug, and turned to him. "I am just overwhelmed, Erik…" she explained, "…in seven months, I will be watching you hold our child in your arms."

A wide, exuberant smile spread across his features and tears climbed into his eyes, "A baby…you are with child?"

All she could do was nod, for her arms were full of baby, and her husband was spreading kisses all over her face….

…and for the four girls and one boy that were born to them in the coming years, Erik never ceased to be amazed by Christine's smile as she held the newborn in her arms or fed them at her breast.

She refused a wet-nurse or any other woman tend to her children; and Erik could refuse his wife nothing. Their children grew to be strong, independent, intelligent citizens of nobility, but never forgot their parents humble beginnings…

….and the legacy lives on.

The End 


End file.
